LOUIS 
COUPERUS 


THE  TOUR 


n 


THE  TOUR 

A  STORY  OF  ANCIENT  EGYPT 


BY 

LOUIS  COUPERUS 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  DUTCH  BY 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1920 


COPYBIQHT,  1920, 

BT  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  my  friend 
Stephen  McKenna  for  Ms  version  of  the 
Hymn  to  Aphrodite  in  Chapter  VII.  and  for 
assistance  in  the  translation  generally. 

A.  T..DE  M. 

CHELSEA,  1  August,  1919. 


THE  TOUR 

•t 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  night  that  hung  over  the  sea  was 
windless  and  blissfully  silver-pure 
after  the  glowing  splendour  of  the 
day;  and  the  great  quadrireme  glided  evenly 
and  softly,  as  though  upon  a  lake,  under  a 
wide  firmament  of  stars.     The  thin  horizon 
was  purely  outlined  around  the  oval  sea ;  and 
on  this  wide  world  there  was  nothing  but 
the  stars  and  the  ship. 

But  the  ship  resounded  with  music. 
There  was  the  constantly  repeated  melodious 
phrase  of  the  three  hundred  rowers,  soft 
and  monotone,  in  a  melancholy  minor,  with 
ever  the  same  refrain,  after  which  the  horta- 
tor  gave  out  the  chant,  after  which  the 
chorus  of  rowers  again  threw  back  their 
long,  hushed  phrase  of  melancholy,  the  soft, 
monotonous  accompaniment  of  the  weary- 


2  THE  TOUR 

ing  work,  the  musical  encouragement  to  re- 
peat the  same  movement  of  the  arms  and  the 
same  bending  of  the  body  over  the  loins. 

This  music  rose  in  a  mournful  swell  from 
the  ship's  lower  deck ;  and  harmonizing  with 
it  was  the  soft  stroke  of  the  oars,  which  were 
like  the  legs  of  some  graceful  sea-animal; 
the  ship  herself,  with  her  swanlike  raised 
prow,  suggested  an  elegant  monster  swim- 
ming through  the  lake-calm  waters  of  that 
silvery  night-world,  a  monster  with  a  swan's 
neck  and  hundreds  of  slender,  evenly-moving 
legs  and  winged  with  two  rose-yellow  sails, 
which  rose  and  bellied  gently  at  the  ship's 
own  motion,  but  did  not  swell,  because  the 
wind  lay  still. 

While  the  great,  winged  navigium  glided 
upon  that  harmony  of  slaves '  song  and  oar- 
strokes,  there  came  from  the  rear  half-deck 
the  blither  song  of  the  -sailors  idling  after 
their  work.  It  sounded  cheerful  with  deep, 
bass  male  voices,  without  the  rowers'  melan- 
choly ;  and  there  was  one  sailor  who  gave  the 
time  in  a  higher  voice,  for  the  seamen  were 


THE  TOUR  3 

at  liberty  to  sing,  but  their  singing  must  be 
artistically  led,  because  melodious  music 
meant  a  prosperous  voyage  and  averted  evil 
chances  and  did  not  let  the  shrill  voices  of 
the  sirens  ring  from  under  the  waters  and 
because  the  pure  sound  of  the  human  voice 
kept  away  the  rocks  drifting  under  the  sea 
and  compelled  the  sea-serpent  to  dive  back 
into  the  deep. 

And  through  these  two  choirs,  through  the 
melancholy  singing  of  the  rowers  and  the 
jubilant  seamen's  song,  -a  delicate  female 
voice  let  fall  clear,  love-yearning  notes,  al- 
ways with  a  playful  and  wanton  final  phrase. 
It  was — while  as  it  were  golden  beads 
tinkled  from  twanged  harp-strings,  those 
very  bright  gold  beads  which  tinkle  from  the 
strings  of  the  little  four-stringed  Lesbian 
harp — a  hymn  to  the  goddess  Aphrodite, 
whose  name  constantly  rang  back,  plaint- 
ively and  wantonly,  in  the  singer's  Greek, 
exotically  soft  against  the  harder  Latin  of 
the  men's  joy-song  and  the  melodious 
melancholy  phrase  of  the  lower  deck.  ,  , 


4  THE  TOUR 

Publius  Lucius  Sabinus  lay  on  the  prow 
in  a  pavilion  of  Tyrian  red-silk  curtains  and 
listened.  The  music  sounding  up  from  his 
ship  in  the  silver-pure,  windless  night, 
through  the  blissful,  wide-pure,  star-strewn 
air,  brought  him  a  moment's  respite  from 
grief.  He  lay  calmer  now,  sated  with  de- 
spair, with  his  soul  of  sorrow  as  it  were 
bathed  in  the  melodious  music.  He  stared, 
as  though  without  thinking,  now  almost  free 
from  grief,  at  the  silver  statue  of  Aphrodite, 
the  patroness  of  his  ship,  in  front  of  which 
an  alabaster  lamp  burned,  while  a  light 
spiral  of  nard  curled  around  the  goddess* 
feet  from  an  incense-boat. 

It  was  not  possible  to  feel  always,  always, 
the  same  vehement  grief.  To-morrow,  nay, 
in  an  hour,  the  sorrow  would  resume  its 
violence;  now,  in  this  night  of  coolness  and 
melody,  there  was  just  a  brief  rest,  a  moment 
of  annihilation,  almost  a  sense  of  wistful 
well-being.  And,  in  this  calmer  mood, 
Lucius  felt  a  need  to  speak  a  friendly  word 


THE  TOUR  5 

to  his  old  friend  and  tutor,  as  he  had  not 
done  since  the  voyage  began. 

He  struck  the  gong  beside  his  couch ;  and 
a  Little  black  slave  appeared. 

"Tarrar,"  said  Lucius,  "find  Thrasyllus 
for  me  and  tell  him -that  I  await  him." 

The  little  Libyan  slave,  looking  like  a 
monkey  in  his  scanty,  many-coloured  coat, 
made  a  drolly  serious  movement  of  reve- 
rence, crept  backwards  and  disappeared. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  lifted  the  hanging 
and  Thrasyllus  stepped  into  the  presence 
of  his  young  master,  Publius  Lucius 
Sabinus. 

The  pedagogue,  or  tutor,  was  an  elderly 
f  reedman,  tall,  lean,  serious,  grey-haired  and 
grey-bearded.  His  eyes  were  kindly;  his 
mouth  wore  a  fatherly  smile. 

Lucius,  without  rising,  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  him : 

"Thrasyllus,"  he  said,  " forgive  me  if  I 
have  been  unkind." 

This  was  all  that  he  said.    His  voice 


6  THE  TOUR 

sounded  deep,  manly  and  earnest.  The  old 
tutor  had  taken  a  seat  on  a  footstool  beside 
his  master's  couch.  And,  holding  the 
other's  hand  for  a  moment  in  his  own,  he 
said  : 

"  Lucius,  I  thank  you  for  that  word.  But 
I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  dear  young 
master.  You  are  the  master,  I  am  your 
slave,  your  slave  still,  even  though  you  have 
given  me  my  freedom.  I  am  your  servant, 
but  one  who  has  fatherly  feelings  for  you. 
I  feel  a  father's  love  towards  you;  and  you 
have  never  forbidden  it.  It  is  well;  and  I 
am  content.  I  serve  you  and  I  love  you. 
But  I  thank  you  for  that  generous  word. 
That  is  what  you  are:  generous,  just.  You 
are  far  above  all  pride.  You  know  how 
to  admit  when  you  are  wrong.  And  I, 
on  my  side,  if  you  think  that  you  need  it, 
gladly  grant  you  my  forgiveness,  though  the 
word  is  unsuited  to  my  mouth.  You  were 
bitter  and  you  were  suffering :  your  sorrow 
drove  you  mad.  Your  nature  is  violent  in 
things:  in  your  love,  in  your  sorrow,  in 


THE  TOUR  7 

your  hatred,  in  all  your  passions  and 
angers.  ..." 

"I  was  not  generous  and  not  just,  Thra- 
syllus,  and  I  raised  my  hand  against  you. 
Forgive  me." 

The  old  tutor  shrugged  his  shoulders : 

"I  forgive  you,  I  forgive  you.  Your 
blood  flows  hotly  and  the  red  cloud  some- 
times blinds  you.  Certainly  you  must  con- 
trol and  master  yourself.  But  I,  I  am  your 
slave,  though  I  feel  for  you  like  a  father; 
and  that  you  raised  your  hand  against  me : 
what  of  it?  It  was  a  movement  of  anger. 
You  are  as  mettlesome  as  a  young  colt. 
And  sorrow  drove  you  mad." 

"It  does  so  still.  Sometimes,  sometimes 
it  is  as  though  I  felt  a  fury  of  frenzy  here, 
inside  me,  in  my  breast !  Then  I  must  have 
her,  have  her  back,  have  her  here,  beside 
me,  in  my  arms,  at  my  breast,  at  my  lips! 
O  ye  gods,  ye  gods,  ye  gods!" 

He  drew  a  deep  breath,  moaned  and 
sobbed. 

"Be  still,  dear  young  master,"  said  the 


8  THE  TOUR 

tutor.  "Try  to  forget  and  try  to  be  re- 
signed. She  is  gone.  She  is  not  to  be 
found.  We  have  searched  everywhere. 
You  have  vainly  squandered  treasures  to 
find  her.  Ilia  is  gone.  It  is  three  months 
now  since  she  disappeared.  She  was  pro- 
bably kidnapped  by  pirates  while  bathing. 
She  used  often  to  bathe  in  the  sea,  among  the 
rocks  ,  .  ." 

"Is  the  villa  at  Baiae  sold?  I  won't  go 
back  to  it !  .  .  .  Since  she  is  no  longer  there, 
since  she  has  disappeared,  disappeared! 
She  has  disappeared !  She  has  disappeared 
without  a  trace!  Just  one  sandal  on  the 
shore.  It  was  a  calm  sea.  She  cannot  have 
been  drowned!  ...  In  my  house  she  was 
queen!  My  Ilia:  she  was  the  queen  of  my 
house,  though  she  was  a  slave !  Everything 
for  her  and  because  of  her!  She  was  my 
slave,  but  she  had  slaves  herself,  male  and 
female:  she  had  the  jewels  of  an  empress, 
she  had  the  raiment  of  a  goddess!  I  wor- 
shipped her  as  I  would  Venus  herself !  And 
she  has  disappeared,  she  has  disappeared 


THE  TOUR  9 

without  a  trace,  without  a  trace!  Not  a 
thing  of  hers  has  been  found  save  a  sandal, 
a  sandal !  Where  can  she  be  ?  Is  she  dead, 
is  she  alive?  Did  she  run  away,  was  she 
kidnapped,  has  she  been  murdered?  Shall 
I  never,  never  see  her  again?  Here,  here" 
— he  rose  suddenly — "here,  in  my  boiling 
breast,  I  feel  it  welling  up  now,  the  fury 
of  frenzy!  I  want  her,  I  will  have  her! 
Ilia,  Ilia,  Ilia!" 

And  he  uttered  a  despairing  cry,  a  scream 
of  anguish,  and  burst  into  sobs. 

His  cry,  his  scream  was  heard  in  the  night, 
throughout  the  ship. 

And  suddenly,  because  of  his  grief,  all  the 
music  fell  silent:  the  melancholy  chant  of 
the  rowers,  the  joy-song  of  the  sailors  and 
the  hymn  to  the  goddess,  sung  to  the  twang- 
ing Lesbian  harp. 

Only  the  oars  continued  to  beat  the  waves. 
For  the  rest,  silence,  silence,  silence  .  .  . 
over  all  the  ship,  under  the  -starry  dome.  .  .  . 

Then  the  hortator's  voice  made  itself 
heard.  The  rowers'  melodious  phrase  rose 


10  THE  TOUR 

in  a  mournful  swell,  always  the  same.  And 
the  high  voice  of  the  sailor  who  led  the  sing- 
ing set  the  time.  The  seamen  took  up  the 
chant.  And  bright,  golden  beads  from  the 
four-stringed  harp  fell  like  clear  drops 
through  the  night;  and  the  Greek  hymn  of 
the  songstress  pined  away  with  love  and 
tenderness,  to  ring  out  suddenly,  implor- 
ingly: 
"Aphrodite!  .  .  .  Aphrodite!  .  .  ." 


LUCIUS  lay  on  his  cushions  sobbing 
like  a  child.    Beside  him  sat  old 
Thrasyllus,  with  Ms  hand  on  his 
master's  heaving  shoulder : 

"Lucius,  control  yourself,'7  he  said. 
"Master  yourself  and  yield  piously  to  Fate. 
Ilia  is  gone,  she  is  gone.  She  is  probably 
gone  for  ever.  She  has  disappeared. 
Pirates  must  have  kidnapped  her  while  she 
was  bathing.  ...  Do  not  think  of  her  any 
more.  Life  is  rich  in  promise.  Fortune 
has  favoured  you  not  only  with  untold 
treasures,  but  also  with  genius  and  soul. 
You  love  beauty  and  study,  every  art  and 
every  science.  You  did  well  to  follow  my 
advice  at  last  and  not  to  go  on  languishing 
with  grief  in  the  villa  at  Baia3.  Yes,  it  is 
sold.  We  shall  never  go  back  there.  The 
villa  is  sold  to  Caesar.  For  almost  nothing. 

Tiberius  can  look  upon  it  as  a  gift !    What 

11 


12  THE  TOUR 

does  it  matter?  Forget  the  villa  and  .  .  . 
forget  Ilia.  .  .  .  We  are  now  sailing 
towards  Egypt,  the  birthplace  of  all  wisdom, 
the  cradle  of  humanity.  You  did  well  to 
follow  my  advice:  you  needed  distraction, 
my  dear  young  master ;  and  this  distraction 
will  bring  healing  to  your  sick  soul.  To- 
morrow we  shall  reach  Alexandria.  The 
voyage  is  auspicious  and  will  probably  be 
completed  without  storms.  Try  to  sleep 
now;  and,  once  again,  thank  you  for  your 
kind  word.  You  are  generous.  I  had  no- 
thing to  forgive,  but  I  am  grateful  that  you 
love  me  better  than  you  would  a  simple  slave. 
Good-night.  Good-night,  Lucius." 

The  tutor  left  the  pavilion : 

"Draw  the  curtains  close,  Tarrar,"  he 
said  to  the  Libyan  boy.  "Noiselessly." 

"Yes,  Thrasyllus,"  said  the  child. 

The  tutor  walked  to  the  end  of  the  long 
deck.  The  sailors'  song  was  hushed,  the 
hymn  was  hushed;  only  the  rowers'  melan- 
choly phrase  sounded  very  softly,  muffled  in 
undertone. 


THE  TOUR  13 

The  old  man  stopped.  On  a  pile  of 
cushions  lay  Catullus,  Lucius'  penniless 
uncle,  pot-bellied  as  Silenus  and  with  a  bald 
and  shining  pate;  and  on  a  low  chair  sat 
Cora,  the  Greek  slave  from  Cos.  Her  harp 
stood  like  a  rounded  bow  by  her  side;  and 
she  leant  her  head  against  it. 

"Well,  Thrasyllus,"  mumbled  Catullus, 
sleepily,  "how  goes  it  with  my  nephew ?" 

"He  has  spoken  a  kind  word  to  me,"  re- 
plied the  tutor,  joyfully. 

"A  kind  word?"  cried  Catullus,  raising 
himself,  with  his  hands  still  behind  the  grey 
fringe  of  his  cranium.  "I  shall  become 
jealous!  I  have  not  had  a  kind  word  since 
that  wench  bolted.  .  .  ." 

"Ssh!  Be  silent,  worthy  Catullus,"  said 
Thrasyllus.  "He  believes  that  she  has  been 
kidnapped.  Leave  him  in  that  belief." 

"And  every  one  knows — the  gubernator 
told  me  so  himself — that  she  ran  away  with 
Carus  the  Cypriote,  the  sailor!  Every  one 
knows  it,  all  the  sailors  and  rowers  ..." 

"Ssh!"     Thrasyllus    repeated.     "Never 


14  THE  TOUR 

tell  him!  He  worshipped  the  woman  and 
she  was  not  worth  it !  She  reigned  as  queen 
in  his  house  .  .  .  and  she  ran  away  with 
Carus  the  Cypriote !  She  left  a  master  like 
Lucius  for  a  scoundrel  like  Carus!" 

"And  Lucius  still  believes  that  Venus 
watches  over  him!" 

' 'Why  should  the  goddess  not  watch  over 
him,  my  Lord  Catullus'?  Ilia  was  not 
worthy  of  Lucius:  the  goddess  was  in  very 
truth  watching  over  Lucius  when  she 
aroused  that  mad  passion  in  Ilia.  Who 
knows  what  great  and  high  happiness  she 
has  in  store  for  him  in  the  future?" 

"I  don't  believe  in  the  gods,  Thrasyllus, 
not  even  in  Bacchus, ' '  said  Catullus.  ' '  You 
know  I  don't.  Since  the  gods  ordained  that 
I  should  be  born  as  poor  as  a  rat  and  my 
nephew  surrounded  by  every  earthly  treas- 
ure, since  .  .  .  since  I  was  a  babe  at  the 
breast,  I  have  not  believed  in  the  gods! 
And  least  of  all  in  Venus  .  .  .  though  I 
could  almost  begin  to  believe  in  her  when 
Cora  sings  to  her  as  she  has  been  doing." 


THE  TOUR  15 

The  Greek  slave  raised  her  head  from  the 
harp  on  which  she  was  leaning : 

"Did  I  sing  well?"  she  asked.  "Thra- 
syllus,  did  I  sing  well*?" 

"Very  well  indeed,  Cora,"  said  Thra- 
syllus. 

"Did  lie  say  anything  about  my  song?" 

"No,"  said  Thrasylhis,  "he  did  not." 

"Has  he  never  said  anything  about  my 
singing?" 

"No,  Cora;  he  is  suffering  too  much  to 
take  notice  of  it." 

"Poor  Cora!"  -said  Catullus.  "She  has 
been  singing  hymns  to  Aphrodite  for  three 
months  now,  ever  since  Ilia  went  away  and 
since  you,  Thrasyllus,  bought  Cora  for  her 
beautiful  voice,  to  divert  Lucius  a  little ;  and 
I  believe  that  Lucius  has  not  even  observed 
that  Cora  can  sing  .  .  .  much  less  realized 
that  she  exists!" 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  said  the  Greek  slave, 
leaning  her  head  against  the  harp  again. 

Catullus  yawned  and  puffed  out  his 
stomach : 


16  THE  TOUR 

"I  shall  stay  and  sleep  here  in  my 
cushions,"  he  said.  "I  shall  not  go  to  my 
pavilion.  I  shall  stay  and  sleep  here,  under 
the  stars.  To-morrow  we  shall  be  at 
Alexandria!  Alexandria!  The  city  with 
the  most  exquisite  cooking,  so  they  say!  I 
am  tired  of  Rome  and  Baiae;  I  am  really 
tired  of  roast  peacock  and  oysters.  Nothing 
but  Rome  and  roast  peacock;  nothing  but 
Baiae  and  oysters:  I  shall  end  by  turning 
into  a  peacock  or  an  oyster !  Change  of  diet 
is  the  secret  of  good  health.  I  was  losing  my 
gaiety  and  had  not  a  joke  left  in  me  to  charm 
an  occasional  laugh  out  of  Lucius.  He  did 
not  even  listen  to  me,  Cora,  when  I  was 
witty  .  .  .  and  you  expect  him  to  listen  to 
your  song!  He  listens  to  nothing  and  no- 
body since  Ilia  is  gone." 

"Was  she  so  very  beautiful?"  asked  Cora. 

"She  was  very  beautiful,"  said  Thra- 
syllus,  with  grave  appreciation. 

"She  was  beautiful,"  Catullus  echoed,  in 
airy  praise,  "but  she  was  too  heavy  and  too 


THE  TOUR  17 

big.    Her  ankles  were  not  slender.    Her 
wrists  were  as  thick  a,s  a  man's." 

"She  was  very  beautiful,"  Thrasyllus  re- 
peated. "She  was  as  beautiful  as  a  god- 
dess." 

"That  is  just  where  I  never  agreed,"  cried 
Catullus,  vehemently,  "either  with  you  or 
with  my  nephew.  You  both  said  that  she 
was  like  a  goddess  ..." 

"She  was  like  the  Cnidian  Venus  of 
Praxiteles,"  Thrasyllus  persisted. 

"I  could  never  see  it!"  Catullus  persisted, 
in  his  turn.  "I  could  never  see  it.  There 
may  have  been  something  of  Praxiteles' 
Venus  in  the  lines  of  her  body  .  .  .  some- 
thing, perhaps,  though  much  coarser;  but 
her  face  certainly  lacked  the  charm,  the 
smile  of  that  divine  statue.  Now,  though 
I  do  not  believe  in  the  gods,  though  I  do  not 
believe  in  Venus,  I  do  believe  in  my  own 
correct  and  sometimes  sober  opinion!  I 
was  not  in  love  with  Ilia  as  Thrasyllus  and 
Lucius  were!  And  really,  between  our- 


18  THE  TOUR 

selves,  I  can  understand  her  bolting,  though 
she  did  reign  as  queen  in  the  house.  She 
was  far  too  much  admired  for  her  divine 
ankles  and  wrists  and  for  her  big  feet  and 
hands !  Did  she  not  sometimes  have  to  turn 
and  turn  for  a  hour,  while  Lucius  lay  looking 
at  her,  to  turn  on  a  revolving  pedestal,  which 
two  slaves  under  the  floor  moved  round  and 
round  and  round,  and  did  not  Lucius  grow 
angry  if  she  stirred?  ll  can't  endure  this, 
uncle !'  she  would  often  declare  to  me;  and 
I  can  well  understand  it.  To  play  at  being 
a  living  statue  strikes  me  as  wearisome ;  and 
I  also  should  say,  i Thank  you  for  nothing,' 
if  my  nephew  were  to  take  it  into  his  head, 
because  nature  has  at  least  blessed  me  with 
a  fairly  perfect  form,  to  make  me  turn  and 
turn  on  a  revolving  pedestal  as  Cupid  with 
his  bow  and  arrow  or  as  Ganymede  with  a 
drinking-cup  in  his  hand!  What  do  you 
say,  dreamy  Cora?" 

1 1 1  don 't  know, ' '  said  Cora.  ' '  No  one  will 
ask  me  to  pose  as  the  Cnidian  Venus.  I 
have  nothing  but  my  voice  ..." 


THE  TOUR  19 

"And  I  nothing  but  a  terrible  sleepy  feel- 
ing!" yawned  Catullus.  "I  shall  stay  and 
sleep  here,  under  the  stars.  ..." 

He  stretched  himself  and  heaved  his  body 
over;  two  slaves  approached  and  covered 
him  carefully  with  silken  sheets  and  woollen 
blankets  and  pushed  pillows  under  his  head, 
his  loins  and  his  feet.  He  'accepted  their  at- 
tentions like  a  child.  And,  when  he  had 
turned  over,  he  at  once  fell  asleep  like  a 
child,  with  not  a  wrinkle  of  care  in  his  bald 
forehead,  which  shone  like  ivory  in  the  soft 
light  of  the  stars. 

Cora  had  risen  to  her  feet : 

4 'Good-night,  Thrasyllus,"  she  said. 

"  Good-night,  Cora,"  said  the  tutor, 
paternally. 

The  Greek  slave,  her  harp  tucked  into  her 
arm,  moved  away  slowly.  She  lifted  the 
hanging  of  a  cabin  which  she  shared  above- 
deck  with  some  other  slaves.  These  were 
sleeping  in  six  or  seven  narrow  beds  close 
together.  A  rose-coloured  lantern  shed  a 
vague  glimmer,  here  over  a  hip  rounded  in 


20  THE  TOUR 

sleep,  there  over  a  face  with  shut  eyes, 
framed  in  black  tresses  and  white,  raised 
arms. 

The  slave  undressed  in  silence.  Her 
muslin  peplos  woven  with  gold  flowers  fell 
from  her.  She  stood  naked.  She  looked  at 
her  wrists,  which  were  slim,  like  a  patri- 
cian's. She  stooped  and  looked  at  her 
ankles.  She  arched  the  instep  of  her  nar- 
row, shapely  foot.  And  she  passed  her 
slender  fingers  over  her  hips,  which  were  like 
a  virgin's,  and  over  her  waist,  round  which 
she  could  almost  make  her  two  hands  meet. 
Then  she  took  up  a  metal  hand-mirror  and 
looked  at  herself  in  the  light  of  the  rose- 
coloured  lantern.  She  half-closed  her  big 
eyes,  which  were  like  gigantic  sapphires  in 
mother-o '-pearl  shells,  very  soft,  very 
bright,  very  big,  with  the  streak  of  antimony 
stretching  to  the  temples.  Then  she  smiled. 

But  next  she  gave  a  very  deep  sigh.  She 
lay  down  on  her  little  narrow  bed  between 
two  other  beds.  A  slave  had  moved  slightly 
in  her  sleep,  muttering.  Cora  drew  a  sheet 


THE  TOUR  21 

over  herself ;  and  her  great  eyes  stared,  with- 
out seeing,  into  the  rose-coloured  lantern. 

In  the  windless  night  the  ship  glided 
over  the  sea,  which  was  calm  as  a  lake ;  and 
there  was  nothing  but  the  beating  of  the 
oars  and  the  lulling  melodious  phrase  of  the 
rowers.  .  .  . 

Sometimes  ...  a  sing-song  order  from 
the  gubernator,  up  in  his  look-out  turret. 

And  then  a  creaking  of  heavy  ropes  over 
great  pulleys.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  III 

NEXT  morning,  the  soft,  even  light  of 
a  tea-rose  dawn  spread  over  a  magic 
spectacle,  beautiful  as  a  marvellous 
dream,  flimsy  as  a  vision,  compelling  as  an 
enchantment.  The  ship  had  glided  past  the 
monumental,  marble,  nine-storied  Pharos 
into  the  Great  Harbour ;  and  Alexandria  lay 
before  the  eyes  of  the  delighted  travellers, 
Lucius,  Thrasyllus,  Catullus,  shining  pink 
through  diaphanous,  mother-o  '-pearl  gleams 
and  a  slowly-lifting  silvery  mist,  like  a  city 
of  magic  and  fairy-tale.  A  long,  long  row 
of  white  palaces,  with  irregular  gables, 
loomed  through  the  mist  and  the  gleam. 

On  the  left,  on  the  rocks  of  Lochias,  the 
pillars  of  the  former  royal  palace  shone 
magical  and  fairylike  in  the  silvery  mist. 
Thrasyllus  knew  that,  since  Egypt  had  be- 
come a  Roman  province,  the  legate  resided 

there,    surrounded    with    royal    honours. 

22 


THE  TOUR  23 

Under  the  palace  the  little  square  basin  of 
the  palace-harbour  showed,  gay  with  the 
purple  sails  of  the  legate's  triremes;  with 
the  little  island  of  Antirrhodos,  behind 
which  pillars  and  yet  more  pillars  outlined 
more  and  more  clearly  the  white  theatre; 
with  the  bight  of  the  Posidium,  where  stood 
the  Temple  of  Poseidon  and  the  great  Em- 
porium, the  great  market  of  the  merchant 
shippers,  while  a  pier  ran  into  the  harbour 
on  which,  dainty  as  a  marble  ornament,  stood 
the  villa  of  the  Timoneum,  built  by  Mark 
Antony.  A  riot  of  luxuriant  green  gardens, 
with  the  stately  crowns  of  palm-trees  and 
the  dreamy-delicate  crests  of  tamarisks, 
flung  cool,  dark  nosegays  between  all  those 
gleaming  white  buildings,  which  began  to 

blink  in  the  ever  fiercer  sunshine 

Thrasyllus  pointed  with  his  finger,  along 
the  harbour,  the  long  row  of  palaces  of  the 
Csesareum,  the  huge  docks  and  yards  teem- 
ing all  motley  with  people  and  industry,  to 
the  Heptastadium,  the  promenade- jetty 
which  stretched  out  to  unite  the  city  with  the 


24:  THE  TOUR 

island  of  Pharos,  whence  the  light-house 
took  its  name.  On  the  one  side  of  this  pier, 
with  rostra  and  statues  on  the  marble  balus- 
trade and  gates,  lay  the  harbour  of 
Eunostus  and  the  naval  docks  of  Cibotus. 

The  water  on  every  side  was  crowded  and 
swarming  with  vessels:  biremes  and  tri- 
remes, battle-ships  and  merchant-ships ;  the 
masts  rose  like  a  forest  of  poplars  and 
the  sails  glowed  like  the  many-coloured 
wings  of  one  bird  against  another;  and,  as 
soon  as  the  quadrireme  glided  in,  she  was 
surrounded  by  a  host  of  sloops,  filled  with 
traders,  with  yelling  Arabs  and  Nubians. 
The  Aphrodite  heaved  to;  a  pilot  came  on 
board ;  then  she  glided  on  again  through  the 
press  of  the  sloops,  the  yelling  of  the  traders 
and  with  swanlike  elegance  turned  and  lay 
to  beside  the  great  quay,  at  the  place  where 
she  was  expected,  the  place  kept  open  for 
her. 

The  quay,  between  the  obelisks,  was  alive 
with  a  maddening   concourse   of  people: 
sailors  and  merchants,  vendors  of  fruit  and 


THE  TOUR  25 

water  and  vegetables,  chattering  women, 
screaming  children,,  Ethiopian  beggars, 
Greek  students,  priests  of  Serapis  and  Isis, 
Roman  soldiers ;  and  all  pointed  at  the  ship 
and  streamed  in  unison  to  gaze  at  her  in 
wide-eyed  and  open-mouthed  admiration. 
For,  though  numbers  of  vessels  entered  the 
Great  Harbour  of  Alexandria  daily,  it  was 
not  every  day  that  the  quay  was  visited  by 
so  impressive  a  quadrireme  as  this ;  and  the 
beautiful  ship  aroused  curiosity. 

The  three  travellers  stood  on  the  prow, 
beside  the  silver  figure  of  Aphrodite,  and 
Catullus  said,  in  an  appreciative  tone : 

1  'It's  not  half  bad.  Just  look  at  that  row 
of  palaces !  It  is  as  though  Alexandria  were 
one  great  palace,  opening  on  its  harbour! 
And  what  people,  white,  dark  and  black,  all 
mixed !  And  what  a  noise  they  make,  what 
a  noise !  We  are  much  calmer  in  Italy !  .  .  . 
Do  look,  Lucius,  at  all  those  ibises  walking 
about  on  the  quay,  quiet  and  tame,  pecking 
here  and  there,  upon  my  word  as  though 
they  were  at  home !  Do  you  see  the  ibises, 


26  THE  TOUR 

Thrasyllus  ?  I  thought  that  they  just  stood 
and  dreamed  on  one  leg,  beside  the  Nile,  like 
poetic  birds  .  .  .  and,  the  moment  I  arrive, 
I  see  great  flocks  of  them  actually  walking 
on  the  quay  of  Alexandria's  harbour! 
White  ibises,  black  ibises,  piebald  ibises! 
What  a  crowd  of  ibises !  What  a  crowd  of 
them!  And  so  dignified,  much  more  digni- 
fied than  the  people !  Ye  gods,  what  a  noisy 
crew  the  Alexandrians  are!" 

The  gangway  was  slung  from  the  ship  to 
the  quay;  and  the  magister  was  receiving 
the  port-authorities,  to  whom  he  had  to  show 
his  papers,  when  two  men  came  hurrying 
across  the  gangway,  which  was  hedged  in  by 
a  guard  of  sailors  to  protect  it  against  any 
intrusion  of  the  gaping  populace.  One  of 
them  was  an  obvious  Latin,  the  other  a  dark- 
skinned  Sabsean. 

"Well,  Vettius!"  said  Lucius,  welcoming 
the  Latin,  who  was  his  steward.  ' '  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  again  and  I  hope  that  your  voyage 
was  as  prosperous  as  ours!" 


THE  TOUR  27 

Vettius  the  steward  bowed  low  before  his 
young  master,  bowed  ceremoniously  before 
fat  Uncle  Catullus.  He  had  travelled  ahead 
of  his  master  to  seek  suitable  lodgings  at 
Alexandria  and  he  seemed  very  well  pleased 
with  what  he  had  found,  for  he  pointed  joy- 
fully to  the  dark-skinned  Saba3an,  who  had 
kept  behind  and  now  bobbed  down  with 
many  salaams  and  respectful  assurances, 
uttered  in  a  language  that  wavered  between 
Latin,  Greek,  Phoenician  and  Arabic. 

"This  is  Master  Ghizla,  a  native  of  Saba, 
my  lord,"  said  Vettius,  presenting  him,  "the 
owner  of  the  largest  guest-house  in  Alex- 
andria; and  he  has  at  your  disposal  a  row 
of  three  suites,  standing  in  their  own  gar- 
dens, with  spacious  annexes,  near  the  guest- 
house proper;  and  I  am  convinced  that, 
when  we  have  put  in  our  own  furniture,  they 
will  afford  a  fit  residence  for  you  and  the 
honourable  Catullus.  Of  course,  when 
travelling,  all  conveniences  are  but  tem- 
porary and  not  to  be  compared  with  your  in- 


28  THE  TOUR 

sula  at  Rome  or  your  villa  at  Baiae,  now  the 
property  of  our  gracious  Emperor  Ti- 
berius.7' 

"It  is  well,  it  is  well,  Vettius,"  said 
Lucius.  "We  shall  not  be  too  hard  to 
please.  Are  there  baths  attached  to  them  ? ' ' 

"There  are  most  comfortable  baths  at- 
tached to  them,  my  lord,"  declared  Master 
Ghizla,  bobbing  down  twice  and  thrice  in 
salaams.  "And  there  are  taps  with  very 
cold  water  and  taps  with  very  hot  water. 
They  are  suites  which  I  let  only  to  princely 
nobles  like  your  lordship ;  and  I  have  had  the 
honour  of  lodging  in  them  the  Persian 
Prince  Kardusi,  whom  you  surely  know,  and 
Baabab,  Satrap  of  Mesopotamia,  whom  you, 
also  surely  know,  my  lords,  as  princely 
nobles." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  Lucius, 
trying  to  jest.  "Kardusi  and  Baabab,  I 
know  them  well." 

"We  are  even  related  to  them  and  call 
them  by  their  names,"  Uncle  Catullus  broke 
in,  airily,  with  a  bow  and  puffing  out  his 


THE  TOUR  29 

stomach.  "But  there  is  something  that  I 
want  to  ask  you,  Master  Ghizla,  something 
that  neither  his  lordship  nor  Master  Vettius 
will  care  so  much  about :  are  there  kitchens 
to  the  suites,  kitchens  where  our  trusty  cook 
can  prepare  us  this  or  that  simple  fare*?" 

"There  are  most  comfortable  kitchens  to 
these  princely  suites,  my  lord,"  Master 
Ghizla  assured  him.  "His  Highness  the 
Satrap  Baabab  often  gave  very  sumptuous 
banquets  and  would  invite  his  excellency 
the  Legate  to  his  table  every  other  day ;  and 
near  the  kitchens  there  is  a  well  of  water 
clear  as  crystal. " 

"I  don't  drink  much  water,"  said  Uncle 
Catullus. 

"We  have  old  Mareotis  wine  in  our 
cellars,  my  lord,  wine  thick  as  ink,  dark- 
purple  as  molten  princely  sealing-wax  and 
fragant  as  the  own  lotus  of  our  Lady  Isis, 
blessed  be  her  name!  We  have  also  the 
rose-coloured  date-wine  of  Meroe  and  the 
fine  topaz-yellow  liqueur  of  Napata :  we  have 
all  the  Ethiopian  liqueurs  ..." 


30  THE  TOUR 

" That's  better  than  water/'  said  Uncle 
Catullus,  smacking  his  lips.  "What  say 
you,  my  dear  Lucius'?" 

Lucius  had  made  a  great  effort  that  morn- 
ing to  control  his  grief;  together  with  his 
uncle  and  the  tutor,  he  had  stared  with  in- 
terest at  the  splendid  panorama  that  un- 
rolled itself  before  their  eyes  as  they  entered 
the  Great  Harbour;  he  had  welcomed  his 
steward  Vettius  with  a  kind  word;  he  had 
interested  himself  in  the  apartments  which 
he  was  to  occupy.  Now,  however,  tired  and 
listless,  he  had  sunk  into  a  seat,  beside  the 
silver  image  of  the  goddess,  and  sat  looking 
disconsolately  in  front  of  him.  He  was  a 
tall,  comely  fellow,  with  an  athletic  frame 
developed  by  wrestling  exercise;  and  his 
dark  eyes,  though  now  veiled  with  melan- 
choly and  longing,  gleamed  with  a  deep 
spark  of  intelligence.  Immensely  rich,  the 
sole  heir  of  various  relatives  who  had  died 
childless,  he  had  joined  for  but  a  short  time 
in  the  mad  orgy  of  the  young  Romans  of 
his  own  rank  and  had  soon  devoted  himself 


THE  TOUR  31 

to  many  branches  of  science,  to  astronomy 
in  particular,  philosophy,  magic,  the  fa- 
vourite passion  of  that  period;  he  amused 
himself  with  modelling  and  sculpture ;  as  a 
collector,  he  loved  everything  that  was 
beautiful:  pictures  and  statues,  old  coins 
and  old  glass;  and  his  Etruscan  antiquities 
were  famous  all  over  Rome.  Certainly,  he 
had  always  desired  to  see  Egypt,  to  travel 
through  Egypt ;  and  the  sight  of  the  marble 
palaces  of  Alexandria  had  already  charmed 
him  for  a  moment.  But  his  grief  and  long- 
ing returned  to  him  immediately  after ;  red 
anger  awoke  in  him  once  more  and  impotent 
fury  that  Ilia,  his  best-beloved  slave,  had 
vanished,  one  inauspicious  morning,  from 
his  villa  at  Baiae,  without  leaving  a  trace 
behind  her. 

"Come,  Lucius,"  said  Catullus,  "we're 
going  on  shore  now,  my  dear  fellow.  There 
are  our  litters  waiting  for  us,  prepared  by 
Master  Ghizla's  care  .  .  ." 

"With  excellent,  powerful  Libyan  bear- 
ers, my  lord,  bearers  whom  I  reserve  ex- 


32  THE  TOUR 

clusively  for  princely  nobles  like  you  .  .  ." 
"And,  if  you  care  first  to  take  a  turn 
through  the  city,  sir,"  Vettius  proffered,  "I 
will  see  to  it  that  the  furniture  and  baggage 
are  conveyed  from  the  ships  to  your  apart- 
ments, so  that  you  will  find  everything  ar- 
ranged in  time  for  luncheon." 

Although  Lucius  of  course  travelled  with 
his  own  litters  and  his  own  bearers,  Ghizla 
and  Vettius  had  judged  that  two  Alex- 
andrian litters,  with  twelve  Libyan  bearers, 
would  serve  his  purpose  better  at  Alex- 
andria, especially  because  here  they  were 
accustomed  to  move  quicker,  at  a  trot,  than 
in  Rome,  where  the  pace  was  statelier  and 
slower.  Master  Ghizla,  therefore,  who 
would  not  fail  to  charge  the  litters  and 
bearers  in  his  bill  at  double  the  price  and 
more,  had  quickly  and  slyly  set  out  his 
Utters  in  front  of  the  gangway,  before 
Rufus,  the  under-steward,  had  even  thought 
of  preparing  his  master's  own  litter. 

"Very  well,  Vettius,"  said  Lucius,  ma- 
king an  effort  and  rising.  "I  see  two  lit- 


THE  TOUR  33 

ters:  those  are  for  Uncle  Catullus  and  me. 
And  how  is  our  good  Thrasyllus  to  accom- 
pany us?  For  he  knows  the  city  already 
from  the  writings  of  Eratosthenes  and 
Strabo ;  he  can  tell  us  much  that  is  interest- 
ing on  the  way;  and  the  tour  would  not 
afford  us  half  the  same  pleasure  without 
him." 

"I  have  had  a  good  donkey  saddled  for 
Master  Thrasyllus,"  said  Master  Ghizla, 
with  a  salaam. 

In  fact,  an  ass,  held  by  a  boy  on  a  leading- 
rein,  stood  waiting  behind  the  litters,  among 
the  open-mouthed  populace. 

4 'And,  if,"  the  Sabaean  hinted,  suavely, 
"if  I  might  entrust  the  noble  lords  to  the 
conduct  of  my  younger  brother  Caleb,  he 
will  go  in  front  of  the  noble  lords  and  act  as 
a  guide  with  whom  they  will  doubtless  be  no 
less  satisfied  than  were  the  Prince  of  Persia 
and  the  Satrap  of  Mesopotamia  .  .  ." 

"Kardusi  and  Baabab,"  Uncle  Catullus 
completed,  mischievously.  "Two  pleasant, 
simple  fellows:  I'm  sorry  they're  gone." 


34  THE  TOUR 

But  Ghizla  pointed  to  Caleb,  who  now 
came  up  with  a  flourish  of  salaams  and 
bowed.  As  against  Ghizla,  who  was  tall, 
lean  and  dignified,  Caleb,  the  younger  man, 
was  vivacious  and  sparkling,  with  dark 
eyes,  flashing  teeth  and  a  gay,  smiling 
mouth.  He  wore  wide  striped  trousers  of 
many  colours,  a  white  burnous,  a  red  turban 
and  large  rings  in  his  ears;  and  he  spoke 
better  Latin  than  his  brother,  with  now  and 
then  a  few  sentences  of  Greek. 

Lucius  accepted  Caleb  as  his  guide;  and 
they  went  on  shore;  and  Lucius  and  Uncle 
Catullus  took  their  seats  in  their  litters. 
Thrasyllus  mounted  his  quiet  donkey;  but 
Caleb  flung  himself  with  a  swagger  on  to  a 
jet-black,  gaily-caparisoned  Sabsean  mare 
who  neighed  when  she  felt  the  red  heels  of 
Caleb's  sandals  in  her  flanks.  So  the  pro- 
cession started:  first  three  ebon-black  out- 
runners, with  whips  which  they  cracked 
right  and  left  to  make  room,  to  drive  bark- 
ing dogs  away  and  to  keep  beggars  at  a 
distance;  then  Caleb,  proudly  sitting  his 


THE  TOUR  35 

horse  like  a  young  conqueror,  always  smiling 
and  sparkling  with  black  eyes  and  white 
teeth;  then  the  two  litters,  with  Thrasyllus 
at  the  side  on  his  donkey;  and  round  the 
three  travellers  a  number  of  guards,  armed 
with  whips  and  sticks. 

They  pressed  through  the  crowd  along 
the  quay,  where  everybody  looked  and 
pointed  at  the  distinguished  foreigners; 
they  went  at  a  quick  trot,  for  the  outrunners 
went  at  a  trot,  cracking  their  whips ;  Caleb, 
on  his  Sabaean  mare,  showed  off  his  eques- 
trian powers  and  pranced  elegantly  along 
upon  his  steed ;  the  litter-bearers  followed  at 
a  short,  steady  quick-trot;  even  Thrasyllus' 
donkey,  as  sober  as  a  philosopher,  trotted 
blithely  along;  and  behind  trotted  the 
guards,  shaking  their  sticks  and  flourishing 
their  long  whips.  They  trotted  along  the 
middle  of  the  broad  street,  over  the  great 
stone  flags;  and  it  seemed  as  though  every- 
thing were  trotting  in  a  quick  rhythm,  in- 
cluding all  the  other  litters,  the  carts  and 
horsemen,  who  with  their  outrunners  and 


36  THE  TOUR 

outriders  also  strove  to  make  their  way 
through  the  bustle. 

So  the  cavalcade  trotted  on;  and  the 
street-boys  scattered  and  the  ibises  scat- 
tered with  outstretched  necks  and  wide-flap- 
ping wings. 

"What  crowds  of  ibises!"  Catullus  cried. 
"Thrasyllus,  isn't  it  comical  to  see  so  many 
ibises  walking  and  fluttering  through  the 
streets  of  Alexandria?" 

"My  lord,"  cried  Thrasyllus,  from  the 
back  of  his  dancing  donkey,  "the  ibises  are 
Alexandria's  scavengers." 

"I  dare  say,  but  they  are  unclean  birds 
themselves  for  all  that!  And  they  are 
counted  among  the  sacred  animals!"  cried 
Uncle  Catullus.  "Whoosh!  Whoosh!" 

And  he  drove  them  away,  with  a  flourish 
of  his  arm  from  the  litter,  for  the  whips  of 
the  runners  trotting  behind  circled,  it  is 
true,  around  the  street-boys  but  ever  spared 
the  sacred  ibises,  one  of  which  would  some- 
times stray,  fluttering  wildly,  among  the 
bearers. 


THE  TOUR  37 

Meanwhile  Caleb  continued  to  give  a 
graceful  equestrian  performance  on  Ms 
snorting  mare  beside  Lucius'  litter: 

1 1  My  lord ! ' '  cried  Caleb.  ' '  Do  you  see  the 
Heptastadium  ?  The  great  bridge  leading 
to  the  Pharos  ?  Do  you  see  that  tall-masted 
ships  are  able  to  sail  under  it?  It  is  an 
interesting  walk  there  of  an  evening,  my 
lord ;  all  the  beauties  of  Alexandria  go  there ; 
and  a  great  nobleman  like  yourself  need  but 
make  his  choice  and  any  hetaira  in  Alex- 
andria will  fall  at  his  feet!  This  is  the 
Moon  Gate,  my  lord !  And  this  is  the  High 
Street:  behind  it  lies  the  Rhacotis  quarter, 
which  is  very  interesting  at  night,  my  lord, 
most  interesting  for  any  one  like  your  lord- 
ship to  roam  through  in  disguise.  But  now 
we  are  going  through  the  High  Street ;  and 
here,  you  see,  is  the  Square,  where  the  High 
Street  crosses  the  Museum  Street  and  the 
Avenue  of  Pillars." 

Lucius  looked  around  him  with  enjoy- 
ment. They  were  still  going  at  a  trot,  a  trot 
of  mare  and  runners  and  bearers  and  don- 


38  THE  TOUR 

key,  a  noisy  trotting  between  shouting  and 
laughing  voices  and  cracking  whips,  while  in 
the  streets  and  squares  the  hucksters  also 
shouted  and  laughed  and  swore,  while  the 
street-boys  cheered  and  screamed  for  an 
obolus  and  the  ibises,  flapping  their  wings, 
darted  away,  to  alight  again  elsewhere  and 
act  as  scavengers  to  Alexandria. 

"It  is  very  different  from  Rome  in  every 
way,"  thought  Lucius.  "It  is  the  east." 

Yes,  it  was  the  east.  It  was  Egypt,  it  was 
Alexandria.  Never  in  the  Forum  at  Rome, 
lively  and  busy  though  it  was,  never  in  the 
basilicas  had  Lucius  beheld  this  ever  trot- 
ting, ever  hurrying  tumult.  It  was  as 
though  every  one  were  pressed  for  time  and 
hurrying  feverishly.  Processions  of  priests 
hurried;  the  Roman  guards  even,  returning 
from  the  Palace  after  being  relieved, 
marched  with  an  accelerated  step;  and  yet 
the  numerous  litters  never  struck  against 
one  another:  they  all  glided  at  the  trot  of 
their  bearers,  to  the  right,  to  the  left,  beside 
one  another;  there  was  only  a  shouting,  a 


THE  TOUE  39 

din,  a  cursing,  a  cracking  of  whips  loud 
enough  to  rouse  the.  dead.  Here  was  a 
quarrel,  with  violent  gestures  and  shrill 
voices ;  there  the  noisy  gaiety  of  squabbling 
vegetable-women  and  bawling  vendors  of 
water-melons;  suddenly,  in  a  rage,  the 
women  flung  cabbages  at  the  vendors'  heads 
and  the  vendors  sent  melons  trundling  be- 
tween the  women's  legs;  the  cabbages  and 
melons  rolled  across  the  street  and  the  crowd 
yelled  with  enjoyment,  while  distinguished 
but  still  trotting  processions  of  notables  in 
litters  or  on  horseback  made  a  way  for  them- 
selves. The  cabbages  and  melons  rolled  in 
front  of  the  feet  of  Lucius'  bearers;  and 
Caleb,  rising  in  his  stirrups  with  flapping 
burnous  and  uplifted  arms,  hardly  holding 
the  reins  in  his  fingers  while  the  mare  reared 
on  her  hind-legs,  poured  forth  a  torrent  of 
curses  over  the  women  and  the  hucksters  .  .  . 
and  then  turned  to  Lucius  with  a  pleased 
smile,  as  though  all  this  tumult  were  the 
most  ordinary  morning  affair  in  the  streets 
of  Alexandria.  .  .  ,  Yes,  that  was  the 


40  THE  TOUR 

Egyptian  character:  bustle,  tumult,  uproar, 
yelling  and  cursing  for  the  least  thing ;  quar- 
relling for  the  least  thing;  and  then  every- 
thing just  ordinary  again,  as  though  nothing 
had  happened.  All  this  in  a  motley  whirl 
of  colours:  Rome  was  monotonously  white 
and  colourless  beside  it,  Lucius  thought. 
Here  the  colours  glared  more  fiercely:  the 
citrons,  oranges  and  melons  lay  yellow  and 
gold  over  the  markets ;  and  there  were  exotic 
fruits  too,  scarlet  and  vermilion.  .  .  . 

They  came  to  the  painters'  quarter. 
Troughs  of  used  colouring-matter  ran  in 
gutters  along  the  streets :  there  were  rivulets 
of  indigo,  there  were  little  waterfalls  of 
ochre.  The  bearers  splashed  through  pur- 
ple and  trotted  on  with  purple-black  feet. 
A  golden  whirl  of  dust  in  the  morning  sun 
powdered  over  these  motley  colours  as  with 
handfuls  of  the  finest  glittering  sand.  Tall 
buildings  shot  up  their  pillars  in  that  glitter, 
seemed  to  shimmer,  to  move  in  that  shimmer 
of  light. 

Caleb  now  pointed  to  the  Acropolis,  stand- 


THE  TOUR  41 

ing  fortress-like,  four-square  and  heavy, 
protecting  and  dominating  the  city.  Next 
came  the  Sun  Gate.  Outside  the  city  wall 
was  a  canal ;  along  the  canal  ran  an  avenue 
of  tall  sycamores,  bringing  a  sudden  blissful 
calm  and  coolness  and  silver-green  shadows. 
And  now  Caleb  pointed  to  the  famous  lake, 
Lake  Mareotis :  it  lay  spread  out  like  a  sea, 
but  was  divided,  by  isthmuses  into  smaller 
inland  lakes ;  there  were  islands  often  bear- 
ing some  temple  to  Aphrodite ;  and  along  the 
margins  of  the  lake  rose  villa  after  villa,  in 
royal  pomp  of  marbled-coloured  villas,  cast- 
ing their  reflections  into  the  limpid  water. 

"That  is  where  the  rich  hetairae  live," 
said  Caleb,  with  a  wink,  "hetairae  for  people 
like  your  lordship :  a  prince  like  you  can  take 
your  choice." 

Tall  papyrus  shot  up  on  the  lake's  edge. 
There  were  papyrus-eyots ;  the  stalks 
rustled  at  the  least  breeze ;  and  on  the  eyots 
lived  the  basket-makers :  there  were  families 
of  basket-makers;  the  children  weaving 
baskets  and  hampers  looked  up  and  cried  out 


42  THE  TOUR 

for  an  obolus.  White  lotus  and  pink  water- 
lilies  blossomed  and  small  gilt  barges  passed 
across  the  lake,  with  coloured  awnings  to 
them.  Ibises  and  cranes  fluttered  out  of  the 
reeds. 

"You  must  come  back  here  in  the  eve- 
ning, my  lord,"  Caleb  advised,  winking 
eagerly.  *  *  This  is  the  place  for  one  like  your 
lordship  to  enjoy  himself:  at  Rhacotis  there 
are  only  the  common  women  and  the  houses 
where  the  sailors  go.  But  many  princely 
nobles  like  to  see  everything  at  Alex- 
andria. " 

The  procession  trotted  back  through  the 
Gate  of  the  Sun,  which  made  a  wide  breach 
in  the  city- walls,  a  vaulted  arch  above  Corin- 
thian pillars ;  and  Caleb  said : 

"We  are  now  coming  to  the  Avenue  of 
Pillars  and  to  the  Museum." 

Here  again  were  the  bustle,  the  tumult, 
the  uproar,  the  shouting  and  cheering  and 
cursing,  the  multitude,  litters,  horsemen, 
pedestrians.  The  Avenue  of  Pillars  also 
was  swarming,  mainly  with  students,  phi- 


THE  TOUR  43 

losophers  and  loose  women.  The  sun  blazed 
down  in  the  middle  of,  the  street ;  there  were 
golden  patches  of  light  and  blue-purple 
islands  of  shadow.  And  there  was  always 
the  golden  glitter  of  dust,  as  of  the  finest 
sand  whirling  through  the  air.  Here  were 
the  hair-dressers  and  barbers ;  here  were  the 
baths,  here  the  tailors '-shops  with  their  riot 
of  colours  and  here  the  glittering  jewellers '- 
shops  and  here,  behind  tables,  stood  the 
money-changers.  There  were  stretches  of 
green  garden;  and  behind  the  gardens 
loomed  the  colonnades  of  the  Museum. 
Close  by  were  the  Gymnasium  and  the 
Athletic  School. 

"Will  your  lordship  visit  the  Museum?" 
asked  Caleb,  still  parading  his  horsemanship 
on  the  Sabaean  mare. 

Thrasyllus  thought  that  it  would  be  in- 
teresting to  visit  the  Museum;  and  the 
travellers  alighted.  There  was  a  great  rush 
to  see  them.  Uncle  Catullus  threw  oboli 
among  the  street-boys,  who  rolled  over  one 
another,  fighting.  Beggars  approached, 


44  THE  TOUR 

grey-bearded  men  like  prophets  and  old 
women  like  sibyls;  and  Lucius  flung  a  coin 
here  and  there. 

The  runners  and  guards  drew  themselves 
up  around  the  two  litters,  the  mare  and  the 
donkey;  but  Caleb  walked  in  front  of  the 
travellers,  mincing  elegantly  on  the  tips  of 
his  red  riding-boots  and  holding  the  hem  of 
his  burnous  in  his  swaying  hand.  It  was  as 
though  he  were  always  dancing,  whether  on 
horseback  or  on  foot. 

"The  Museum,"  Caleb  explained,  "is,  as 
your  lordships  know,  the  Academy  of  Alex- 
andria, founded  by  the  beautiful  Cleo- 
patra." 

"That  is  not  true,"  Thrasyllus  whispered 
to  his  young  master.  "It  was  founded  by 
Ptolemy  the  First." 

"Here  philosophers  and  scholars  in  every 
branch  of  science  devote  themselves  to 
study;  and  they  are  surrounded  by  thou- 
sands of  disciples  from  all  countries.  But 
both  masters  and  pupils  are  as  poor  as  rats 
and  do  not,  all  told,  possess  .  ,  .  that!"  said 


THE  TOUR  45 

Caleb,  with  a  flip  of  his  finger  and  thumb. 

"The  Museum  has  produced  great 
scholars,"  Thrasyllus  expounded,  more  ap- 
preciatively, "such  as  Euclid,  Erasistratus 
and  Diophantus;  then  there  were  the  poets 
Theocritus,  Aratus,  Callimachus;  and 
among  critics  Aristarchus ;  and  among  phi- 
losophers more  than  I  could  name." 

"And  because  they  are  so  poor,  all  these 
learned  gentry,"  said  Caleb,  with  a  laugh, 
pointing,  as  they  entered  the  gardens  of  the 
Museum  through  a  portico,  to  stately  white- 
cloaked  figures  walking  to  and  fro,  "because 
they  are  so  poor,  they  live  on  a  fund  pro- 
vided by  the  State:  they're  no  use  for  any- 
thing, these  learned  gentry;  but  they  are 
certainly  clever,  my  lords,  they're  all  that: 
you  won't  find  their  equals  for  cleverness 
anywhere.  And  the  books  they  collect! 
Their  library  is  quite  famous.  .  .  .  Look," 
continued  Caleb,  pointing,  "it  is  just  the 
time  when  they  have  their  mid-day  meal :  it 
seems  to  be  philosophical  to  do  so  earlier 
than  princely  nobles  are  used  to  do.  No 


46  THE  TOUR 

doubt  it  will  interest  you,  as  strangers,  to  see 
so  many  very  wise  and  poverty-stricken 
scholars  and  philosophers  eating  their  black 
broth. " 

The  colonnades  of  the  Museum  loomed 
aloft;  there  were  statues  to  commemorate 
famous  men  of  learning;  and  there  was  an 
immense  rounded  exedra,  from  which 
lectures  were  delivered  at  frequent  in- 
tervals. The  travellers  entered  the  Cena- 
culum,  the  refectory,  which  was  wide,  lofty 
and  very  long ;  the  scholars  and  philosophers 
sat  eating  at  long  tables ;  Lucius  was  struck 
by  the  fact  that  they  were  sitting,  instead  of 
reclining. 

"They  don't  know  any  better,"  Caleb  ex- 
plained. ' '  They  just  sit  down  for  a  moment 
and  gobble  up  their  broth;  they  are  not 
epicures,  they  are  only  just  clever,  you  see. 
They  have  more  in  their  heads,  my  lords, 
than  in  their  pockets.  But  they  have  plenty 
in  their  heads  beyond  a  doubt." 

A  philosopher  moved  towards  the  stran- 


THE  TOUR  47 

gers.  He  was  very  old,  frail  and  grey  and 
looked  like  a  long  dry'  stalk  in  his  toga.  He 
smiled  and  mumbled  words  which  at  first 
were  incomprehensible.  From  the  folds  of 
his  garment  he  stretched  forth  a  clawlike 
hand.  He  was  begging;  and  Lucius  gave 
him  some  money. 

"The  highest  philosophy  is  ...  to  be 
satisfied  with  little,"  he  then  said,  plainly, 
in  pure  Greek. 

And  he  bowed,  ironically,  and  turned 
away  with  the  movement  of  a  long  dry  stalk 
in  his  dirty  cloak. 

"The  shameless  rascal!"  cried  Uncle 
Catullus,  indignantly. 

But  Lucius  laughed  and  looked  down  the 
long  table  at  which  the  men  of  learning  ate. 
Sometimes  a  beggar  would  come  up  to  them ; 
and  they  gave  him  their  bread  and  fruit. 
Sometimes,  too,  dogs  snuffled  around;  and 
the  men  of  learning  flung  them  their  offal, 
over  which  the  dogs  choked  greedily.  Two 
ibises  also  walked  in  ludicrous  high-legged 


48  THE  TOUR 

state  through  the  Cenaculum,  pecking  here 
and  there,  and  kept  the  floor  clean,  though 
they  themselves  were  not  so  cleanly. 

The  travellers  returned  to  their  litters; 
and,  amid  much  shouting  and  cursing  and 
swearing  at  street-boys  and  cracking  of 
whips  at  beggars,  the  procession  started, 
while  Caleb,  for  no  reason,  insisted  on  ma- 
king his  mare  rear  and  curvet  across  the 
street  with  elegant  movements  of  her  fore- 
feet. 

But  now,  smiling  with  his  black  eyes  and 
white  teeth,  he  bent  to  one  side,  low  enough 
almost  to  slip  from  his  mount,  and  asked 
Lucius : 

"  Would  your  lordship  now  like  to  see  the 
Soma?" 

And  through  the  public  gardens  of 
Bruchium,  along  the  Paneum — an  artificial 
little  rocky  mountain  built  up  in  the  shape  of 
a  top  or  pineapple — the  procession  trotted 
to  the  Soma,  the  burying-place  of  the  Ptole- 
mies, where  it  lay  in  the  cool  shade  of  syca- 
mores and  tamarisks.  A  long  avenue  of 


THE  TOUR  49 

recumbent  sphinxes,  male — bearded — and 
female — high-breasted — led  to  the  pyramid 
tombs.  The  travellers  -alighted  and  the  old 
priests  in  charge  appeared. 

"  These  distinguished  strangers  wish  to 
see  the  burial-places  of  the  Ptolemies,'7  said 
Caleb.  "They  are  princely  nobles  and  no 
doubt  they  will  also  be  interested  in  the  tomb 
of  Alexander  the  Great. " 

"Death  is  but  a  slumbering  and  a  twilight 
transition  to  the  halls  of  eternal  sunshine," 
replied  the  priest  in  charge.  "Earthly 
greatness  is  the  perishable  step  to  the  im- 
perishable palace  of  Osiris,  where  our  dead 
monarchs  now  sit  enthroned  around  him, 
their  heads  circled  with  the  pschent  and 
their  hands  grasping  the  scarab  sceptre. 
And  great  Isis  has  appeared  to  them  as  the 
splendour  of  truth,  for -she  lifted  her  veil  for 
their  delight,  so  that  they  saw  her.  Life  is 
but  a  dream,  death  is  a  bridge  and  eternity 
is  life." 

Caleb  walked  mincingly  in  front,  on  the 
tips  of  his  red  riding-boots,  and  pointed  out 


50  THE  TOUR 

things,  while  the  old  priest  went  on  reciting 
the  eternal  verities,  as  though  to  himself. 
The  tombs  of  granite,  porphyry  and  marble, 
inscribed  with  hieroglyphics,  rose  like 
temples,  pyramid-shaped.  The  priest  now 
went  in  front  of  the  travellers  and  descended 
a  few  steps:  inside,  in  the  subterranean 
vault,  invisible,  the  mummies  rested  in  their 
painted  sarcophagi ;  standing  lamps  burned 
on  their  tripods,  perfumes  rose  in  a  cloud 
from  vases  and  dishes;  and  daintily- 
coloured  glass  vessels,  filled  with  oil,  honey 
and  fruit,  stood  on  low  bronze  tables,  while 
amphorae  of  consecrated  water  awaited  the 
hour  of  the  resurrection,  when  the  dead 
should  rise  and  be  baptized  into  the  true 
new  life,  which  was  eternity.  There  was  an 
overpowering  scent  of  sickly-sweet  aroma- 
tics  ;  and  in  the  mist  of  the  perfumes  the  big, 
wide-open  eyes  of  the  painted  images  on  the 
sarcophagues-lids  stared,  ghostly  and  super- 
human, straight  before  them  into  the 
brightening  future.  They  were  images  of 
bearded  kings  and  ibis-crowned  queens; 


THE  TOUR  51 

sometimes  they  were  images  of  children. 

Through  the  mist  of  the  aromatics  the 
golden,  winged  suns  gleamed  in  the  embrace 
of  the  snakes  coiled  tail  in  mouth.  Sacred 
Horus,  son  of  Osiris  and  Isis,  the  radiant 
redeemer  of  mankind,  who  descended  out  of 
pity  on  a  sinful  world,  bestrode  Typhon,  the 
grinning  spirit  of  evil.  There  were  images 
of  the  god  Apis,  of  the  god  Ra,  of  Thoth  and 
Anubis,  with  the  heads  of  an  ox,  an  ibis,  a 
dog. 

After  this,  the  shade  of  the  sycamores  and 
tamarisks  outside  the  tombs  was  silver- 
green  and  cool;  and  the  pure  air  of  the 
sunny  morning  seemed  strange  after  the 
perfumed,  sickly-sweet  atmosphere  of  the 
sultry  underground  sepulchres.  The  priest 
in  charge  stopped  before  a  gleaming  marble 
pyramid.  The  narrow  bronze  door  hung 
tapering  upwards  between  pilasters  carved 
with  lotus-capitals. 

"The  tomb  of  Alexander  of  Maeedon," 
said  the  custodian,  solemnly. 

They  went  inside.    Again,  burning  lamps 


52  THE  TOUR 

shed  their  fragrance.  There  was  a  heavy 
mist  of  nard.  Behind  a  bronze  railing  on  a 
basalt  pedestal  stood  a  sarcophagus  of  trans- 
parent crystal,  polished  and  engraved. 
And  within  this  thick  crystal,  in  a  green 
watery  light,  where  the  flame  of  the  lamps 
was  mirrored  in  the  glass,  a  mummy  lay 
visible.  It  was  like  the  chrysalis  of  a  gigan- 
tic moth.  The  face  was  stained  brown  with 
balsam  and  salve  and  stared  with  eyes  of 
beryl.  The  hair  and  the  short  beard  were 
painted  gold.  Many-coloured  bandages 
wrapped  the  body  in  a  close  sheath ;  and  the 
legs  also  were  closely  fastened  together  in  a 
case  of  gold  filagree. 

The  mummy  lay  on  a  mattress  of  striped 
byssus,  the  head  on  a  byssus  pillow.  The 
scarlet  lips  seemed  to  grin  in  the  crisp  golden 
beard  and  the  beryl  eyes  were  full  of  amaze- 
ment at  what  they  saw  in  eternity. 

1  'These  are  the  sacred  remains  of  the  great 
Alexander,"  said  the  priest  in  charge. 
"History  teaches  us  that  Ptolemy,  son  of 
Lagus,  took  the  body  of  the  hero  and  con- 


THE  TOUR  53 

queror  from  Perdiccas,  who  was  bringing  it 
back  from  Babylon  to  Macedon,  but  was 
passing  through  Egypt  in  the  hope  of  con- 
quering our  sacred  country.  Ptolemy 
marched  against  him ;  Perdiccas  had  hardly 
set  foot  in  Egypt  when  he  perished  at  the 
hands  of  his  own  soldiery  on  an  island  which 
had  been  surrounded  by  Ptolemy's  troops. 
With  Perdiccas  were  the  royal  family: 
Alexander's  pregnant  widow  Roxana  and 
her  young  children.  They  were  allowed  to 
embark  for  Macedon,  but  the  body  of  Alex- 
ander the  Great  was  carried  to  Alexandria 
and  buried  in  state  in  a  massive  gold  sar- 
cophagus. This  sarcophagus  was  stolen  by 
Ptolemy  Parisactus,  a  pretender  to  the 
Egyptian  throne,  who  invaded  the  country 
from  Syria  with  a  host  of  troops.  Alex- 
ander's body,  however,  was  rescued  from  his 
hands  and  laid  in  this  crystal  coffin.  Here 
it  lies." 

Lucius  and  his  companions  stared, 
greatly  moved  by  the  sight  of  this  corpse 
nearly  three-centuries-old,  embalmed  and 


54  THE  TOUR 

bandaged,  with  its  feet  in  a  sheath  of  gold 
filagree  and  its  beryl  eyes  staring  with  sur- 
prise. Was  this  chrysalis  all  that  remained 
of  the  great  Alexander,  whom  the  oracle  of 
Ammon  had  declared  to  be  the  son  of  Am- 
mon-Ra,  son  of  the  sun-god  ? 

Only  Caleb  remained  indifferent,  with  his 
mincing  gait  and  an  incredulous  little  laugh 
at  the  genuineness  of  Alexander's  body,  to 
which  he  had  already  conducted  so  many 
"princely  nobles,"  including  Kardusi  of 
Persia  and  Baabab  of  Mesopotamia. 

"Here  lies  Alexander  the  Great, "  con- 
tinued the  priest  in  charge.  "The  warrior, 
the  conqueror,  the  king  of  kings,  the  son  of 
the  sacred  sun-god,  Ammon-Ra,  descended 
upon  earth.  He  lived  to  be  thirty-three  in 
this  terrestrial  life.  But  this  life  is  a  dream 
and  death  is  the  bridge  to  the  life  that  is 
the  eternal  reality.  The  soul  has  departed 
from  this  house  embalmed  with  precious 
ointments.  .  .  ." 

And  he  added,  in  a  different  voice : 


THE  TOUR  55 

"Even  to  your  excellencies  the  charge  is 
only  one  gold  stater  a  head.  ..." 

"I  will  pay  for  you,  my  lord!"  smiled 
Caleb,  with  an  elegant  bow  to  Lucius. 

And  he  paid  the  priest,  who  went  on 
speaking,  with  the  gold  coins  shining  in  his 
uplifted  hand: 

"  Generosity  is  a  great  virtue.  He  who 
gives  more  than  he  is  asked  to  give  earns 
the  favour  of  Thoth,  who  sews  the  good 
chances  of  fortune  upon  the  earth." 

Caleb  grinned  with  flashing  teeth  to  show 
that  he  understood  and  dropped  another 
half-stater  into  the  priest's  palm. 

The  travellers  stepped  out  of  the  sepul- 
chre. The  sunny  morning  outside  seemed 
strange,  with  silver-green  shadows  between 
waving  tamarisks  and  rustling  sycamore- 
leaves. 

Lucius  was  pale.  And  he  said  to  Thrasyl- 
lus  and  Uncle  Catullus : 

1  'Death!  .  .  .  Death!  .  .  .  She  is  perhaps 
dead.  .  .  .  She  is  drowned,  perhaps,  in  the 


56  THE  TOUR 

sea  .  .  .  and  we  shall  never  recover  her  ex- 
quisite body,  to  embalm  it.  .  .  ." 

"In  any  case  she  has  disappeared,  my 
dear  nephew,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  trying 
to  console  him.  "Let  us  think  of  her  no 
more.  By  all  the  gods,  try  to  forget  her: 
she  had  thick  ankles  and  large  feet.  .  .  . 
Lucius,  do  be  sensible  at  last!  Enjoy  your- 
self during  this  interesting  tour.  We  have 
had  a  morning  more  interesting  than  any 
that  we  ever  had  at  Borne.  We  have  seen  an 
ideal  system  of  scavenging,  we  have  heard 
philosophical  and  religious  truths  and  we 
have  seen  the  mummy  of  Alexander!  I've 
really  received  too  many  new  impressions. 
My  brains  are  soaked  like  an  overfull 
sponge :  they  can  contain  no  more  this  morn- 
ing. That  sated  condition  of  the  head 
makes  my  stomach  feel  empty,  as  empty  as 
my  pocket  when  your  liberality  has  forgot- 
ten to  line  it  for  your  old  uncle.  My  dear 
Lucius,  when  travelling  one  must  be  sparing 
...  of  one's  powers.  I  suggest  to  our  inde- 
fatigable guide  that  we  should  go  home  and 


THE  TOUK  57 

see  if,  in  our  absence,  our  trusty  cook  has  re- 
membered that,  though,  life  is  a  dream,  even 
the  dead  and  therefore  all  the  more  the  living 
have  to  be  fed.  The  dead  are  sustained  with 
oil,  honey  and  fruit:  I  am  curious  to  see 
what  our  cook's  pious  thoughts  have  pre- 
pared for  the  living  to-day. " 

The  procession  trotted  home  through  the 
gardens  of  Bruchium,  the  palace  quarter, 
and  along  the  Hippodrome  to  Master 
Ghizla's  great  diversorium,  or  guest-house. 
It  stood  near  the  Canopian  gate  in  an  oval 
garden,  behind  a  hedge  of  tall  agaves  and 
cactuses;  the  door  opened  between  two 
figures  of  Hermes.  Here  sat  the  janitor,  or 
porter;  and  the  travellers  were  struck  by 
the  fact  that  a  winged  head  of  Hermes,  in 
marble,  crowned  the  marble  architrave  of 
the  door.  Caducei,  or  Hermes'  wands,  with 
winding  snakes,  were  carved  on  the  pilasters 
of  the  door;  for  the  diversorium  was  dedi- 
cated to  Hermes  and  known  in  the  quarter 
as  the  Hermes  House. 

The   janitor  rose   and  bowed,   with  his 


58  THE  TOUR 

hands  stretched  to  the  ground.  Master 
Ghizla  also,  standing  beside  a  statue  of 
Hermes  in  the  middle  of  his  garden,  bowed 
in  this  fashion,  bending  low,  with  his  hands 
stretched  groundwards. 

The  procession  trotted  in,  the  travellers 
alighted,  but  Caleb  sat  his  mare,  bowed 
gracefully  and,  stooping  forward,  whispered 
in  Lucius'  ear: 

"  After  you  have  rested,  my  lord,  I  will 
take  you  whither  you  please,  I  will  procure 
you  whatsoever  you  please  .  .  .  for  your 
lordship's  pleasure  and  gratification. 
Whithersoever  you  please  and  whatsoever 
you  please.  ...  I  wish  you  good  luck  at 
your  repast." 

With  that  he  threw  the  mare  on  her 
haunches,  stood  up  in  the  stirrups,  waved 
his  burnous,  uttered  a  cry  and  rode  away,  in 
a  cloud  of  graceful  gestures. 

The  diversorium  consisted  of  several  low 
buildings.  It  harboured  Arabian  and 
Phoenician  merchants,  who  looked  out 
curiously,  squatting  on  mats  or  lying  at  their 


THE  TOUR  59 

meal,  served  by  black  slaves.  But  Master 
Ghizla  led  his  " princely  guests"  to  their 
own  suites ;  and  Vettius  and  Ruf us  received 
the  travellers  on  the  threshold.  They  had 
worked  to  good  purpose,  conveying  fur- 
niture, boxes  and  packing-cases  on  camels 
and  mules.  A  Babylonian  carpet  lay  upon 
the  floor;  the  travellers'  own  beds  were 
ready;  in  the  corners  of  Lucius'  bedroom 
stood  bronze  and  marble  statues,  for  no  im- 
portant Roman  with  any  pretension  to  taste 
travelled  without  carrying  a  few  of  his 
treasures  with  him;  and  perfumes  burned 
before  the  statues.  There  were  curtains 
hanging  from  rings ;  and  -clothes  lay  ready, 
neatly  folded  and  strewn  with  fragrant 
flowers,  on  long,  low,  sycamore-wood  tables. 
There  were  metal  mirors  on  bronze  pede- 
stals; all  the  brushes,  tweezers  and  un- 
guent-sticks, in  gold  adorned  with  agates, 
lay  spread  on  bronze  tables;  all  the  jars,  pots 
and  vases  essential  to  the  toilet  stood  filled 
with  cosmetics,  ointments  and  perfumes. 
All  this  furniture  and  upholstery,  all  these 


60  THE  TOUR 

useful  and  artistic  possessions  had  been 
brought  over  from  the  ship. 

"My  diversorium  boasts  every  possible 
comfort,  my  lord,  and  all  the  latest  con- 
veniences," bragged  Ghizla,  "  which  visitors 
like  your  lordship  demand  in  these  days." 

He  lifted  a  curtain  beside  Lucius'  couch: 
there  was  in  fact  a  marble  basin  with  taps, 
under  a  canopy. 

"And  here,"  said  Master  Ghizla,  "is  your 
triclinium. ' ' 

The  dining-room  which  Master  Ghizla  -de- 
scribed by  this  high-sounding  name  was  a 
pleasant,  spacious,  airy  apartment,  with 
sun-blinds  between  pillars;  and,  as  Lucius 
entered,  he  was  greeted  with  the  music  of 
harps.  For  all  the  wealthy  young  Roman's 
"family"  were  drawn  up  there  in  two  rows, 
awaiting  his  arrival :  Vettius  and  Ruf  us  and 
Tarrar,  the  little  black  slave ;  all  his  slaves, 
male  and  female,  all  the  great  household 
without  which  no  distinguished  Roman 
thought  it  possible  to  live,  even — indeed 
especially — when  travelling.  And,  amid 


THE  TOUR  61 

the  female  slaves,  stood  the  Greek  slave  from 
Cos,  Cora,  with  two  'other  harpists;  and 
they  drew  long,  descending  chords  from 
their  strings,  while  Cora  sang  a  short  song 
of  welcome  to  the  gracious  master.  Incense 
burned  on  dishes;  two  S-shaped  couches 
coiled  round  a  long,  low  table  covered  with 
a  yellow-and-white  cloth  and  already  laid 
with  yellow-and-white  crockery  and  gleam- 
ing gold  plate.  A  little  fountain  of  verbena- 
water  played  in  the  middle  of  a  bowl  filled 
with  blue  lotus. 

Lucius  assured  Vettius  and  Kufus  that  he 
was  really  pleased ;  indeed  it  was  as  though 
he  were  at  home.  Then,  because  Uncle 
Catullus  said  that  he  was  starving,  he  invited 
his  uncle  and  parasite,  who  had  so  often  di- 
verted him  with  a  merry  jest,  to  lie  down, 
lay  down  himself  and  motioned  Thrasyllus, 
his  friend  and  tutor,  to  a  stool  by  his  side, 
for,  though  Thrasyllus  shared  his  pupil's 
meals,  as  a  freedman  he  remained  the  in- 
'ferior  and  ate  seated.  Tarrar  and  three 
girl-slaves  waited,  while  Cora  and  the  two 


62  THE  TOUR 

harpists  struck  a  soft  melody  from  their 
strings  or  danced  a  little  ballet. 

Uncle  Catullus  was  glad  to  have  neither 
oysters  nor  roast  peacock  set  before  him: 
Lucius'  cook  had  surpassed  himself,  in  this 
first  exotic  repast,  with  a  first  course  of  pep- 
pered water-melon  in  sugared  wine-sauce, 
with  which  was  served  an  Egyptian  spiced 
bread,  named  caces;  next,  young  tunnies, 
surrounded  by  savoury  eggs,  stuffed  olives 
and  finely  chopped  coxcombs;  next,  a  suck- 
ing-pig served  on  bread-fruit  and  cucum- 
bers; lastly,  a  honey-tart,  covered  with  a 
cream-custard  containing  stoned  dates  and 
cinnamon.  They  had  the  celebrated  Mareo- 
tis  wine,  thick  as  ink  and  purple  as  molten 
wax,  poured  by  Master  Ghizla  himself  out 
of  a  jar  still  warm  from  the  sun;  and  there 
was  the  topaz-yellow  Ethiopian  liqueur  of 
Napata,  which  he  dripped  drop  by  drop  into 
goblets  filled  with  snow  and  which  spread 
an  aroma  as  of  roses  steeped  in  silphium. 

Uncle  Catullus  ate  his  fill  and  Lucius  too 
did  honour  to  the  meal,  however  much  his 


THE  TOUR  63 

heart  still  suffered  and  craved,  while  Thra- 
syllus  was  moderate  ,as  always.  Then  a 
legitimate  drowsiness  overcame  the  three 
travellers  and  they  withdrew  behind  their 
curtains,  to  rest. 


BUT  Lucius  did  not  sleep.  Now  that 
he  was  alone,  he  felt  the  agony  of  his 
suffering  and  affliction.  He  drew  a 
sandal  from  a  little  casket,  a  woman's  blue- 
leather  sandal  adorned  with  gold  relief  and 
small,  for  all  that  Uncle  Catullus  was 
pleased  to  say.  It  was  the  only  trace  that 
Ilia  had  left  behind  her.  And  he  kissed  the 
sandal  and  groaned  and  stretched  himself 
out  impotently  and  clenched  his  fists  and  lay 
like  that,  staring  before  him  without 
moving. 

He  lay  lost  in  thought.     And  suddenly  he 
struck  the  gong  and  summoned  Tarrar,  who 
entered  nimbly  and  respectfully : 
"Find  Caleb  and  bring  him  here  to  me." 
The  little  slave  returned  in  a  short  time 
and  ushered  in  Caleb,  who  approached  with 
graceful  salaams.     Tarrar  left  his  master 
alone  with  the  Saba?an. 

64 


THE  TOUR  65 

" Caleb,"  said  Lucius,  "sit  down  and 
listen.  I  need  your  advice." 

"Your  faithful  servant  is  listening,  my 
lord,"  said  Caleb,  sitting  down  on  a 
chair. 

"Caleb,"  continued  Lucius,  "I  have  not 
come  to  Egypt  merely  to  see  the  things  of 
interest  which  this  country  supplies.  I 
have  another  object.  There  are  mysterious 
oracles  in  Egypt;  there  are  prophets  and 
sibyls,  so  I  am  told,  living  in  the  desert.  I 
want  to  know  something.  I  want  to  know 
where  some  one  is,  one  who  is  dear  to  me  and 
far  away.  I  want  to  consult  the  oracles  and 
the  prophets  and  sibyls.  You  must  conduct 
me,  without  saying  a  word  to  my  uncle  or 
my  tutor,  because  they  do  not  approve  of 
the  attempts  which  I  wish  to  make  to  find 
this  person  whom  I  love.  Be  my  guide, 
Caleb,  and  I  will  reward  you. ' ' 

"I  will  be  your  guide,  my  lord,"  replied 
Caleb,  "and  this  very  night  I  will  conduct 
you  .  .  ." 

"Where?" 


66  THE  TOUR 

"To  the  sibyl  of  Rhacotis,  an  old  sorceress 
who  knows  everything." 

"We  will  go  by  ourselves,  in  secret." 

"Very  well,  my  lord;  no  one  shall  accom- 
pany us.  ...  What  do  you  think:  would 
you  not  like  a  cool  sherbet  after  your  rest? 
And  divert  yourself  with  looking  -at  the 
goods  which  the  travelling  merchants  from 
distant  foreign  lands,  who  happen  to-day  to 
be  staying  in  the  diversorium,  have  to  offer 
for  sale  ?  I  will  have  the  sherbet  prepared 
and  the  merchants  informed,  my  lord.  And 
to-night  I  will  lead  you  through  Rhacotis: 
we  will  go  by  -ourselves,  my  lord,  and  no  one 
shall  know  anything  of  our  nocturnal  ex- 
pedition." 

Caleb  went  away;  Tarrar  drew  the  cur- 
tains aside.  Beyond  the  bedchamber  was  a 
pillared  portico;  and  the  green  shadow  of 
the  palm-garden  outside  fell  within  doors. 
Uncle  Catullus  was  still  asleep,  but  Thra- 
syllus  already  sat  reading  his  Egyptian 
guide-books  at  a  table  under  a  palm-tree. 
The  wonderful,  fantastic  stories  of  Hero- 


THE  TOUR  67 

dotus  charmed  the  old  tutor's  mind,  which 
was  not  disinclined  to  fantasy;  but  Thra- 
syllus also  took  pleasure  in  the  more  suc- 
cinct descriptions  of  the  learned  Eratos- 
thenes, Ptolemy  Evergetes'  librarian,  who 
lived  three  centuries  before  and  was  a  noted 
astronomer,  philosopher  and  geographer. 
Thrasyllus  loved  to  consult  his  splendid 
maps,  which  had  never  yet  been  bettered 
and  which  lay  spread  in  heavy  parchment 
on  the  table  before  him;  and  the  tutor  fol- 
lowed the  cinnabar-traced  Nile  on  these 
maps  down  to  Ethiopia  and  the  mysterious 
sources  of  the  sacred  stream. 

Yes,  Eratosthenes  was  the  most  respect- 
able guide.  When  he  went  blind,  in  his 
eighty-second  year,  he  starved  himself. 
Thrasyllus  honoured  him  as  a  martyr  of 
science.  But  the  tutor  also  consulted 
Artemidorus  and  Hypsicrates,  for  he  wished 
to  be  well-informed  about  the  country  which 
he  was  about  to  visit,  that  mysterious 
country  of  age-old  history  and  colossal  art, 
while  also  he  did  not  despise  the  quite 


68  THE  TOUR 

modern  writings  of  his  contemporary, 
Strabo:  what  a  contemporary  told  about  a 
country  over  the  whole  of  which  he  had 
travelled  was  perhaps  most  important  of 
all,  because  of  its  practical  utility  and  also 
because  of  the  freshness  of  the  new  im- 
pressions. 

So  Thrasyllus  sat  under  his  palm-tree  at 
a  table  strewn  with  unrolled  papyri;  more 
scrolls  stood  in  a  case  by  his  side;  and  his 
fingers  followed  the  cinnabar-traced  Nile. 
Lucius  in  the  portico  smiled  in  kindly  ap- 
proval. But  the  travelling  merchants,  led 
by  Caleb,  arrived  through  the  garden.  They 
were  Indians,  Saba3ans,  Arabs,  Phoenicians ; 
and  their  slaves  toiled  under  their  heavy 
bales  of  merchandise,  which  were  slung  on 
pliant  sticks  over  their  shoulders.  The 
merchants  bent  low  in  salaams  before  the 
wealthy  Roman,  bowed  down  to  the  earth, 
kissed  the  ground  which  his  foot  had  trod- 
den, all  eager  to  sell  their  exotic  wares  to  so 
distinguished  a  traveller  at  a  profit  above 
the  ordinary.  The  Phoenicians  made  their 


THE  TOUR  69 

slaves  spread  out  Damascus  tapestry,  but 
Lucius  looked  at  it  with  scorn  and  the 
Phoenicians  at  once  rolled  up  their  inferior 
tapestry.  Then,  however,  they  displayed 
embroidery  from  Nineveh  and  Tyre;  and 
Lucius  turned  a  little  pale,  because  he 
thought  of  Ilia.  It  was  all  very  beautiful 
in  hue  and  very  curious  in  pattern. 

"Call  Uncle  Catullus  here,"  he  said  to 
Tarrar,  who  was  squatting  beside  him  like 
a  faithful  little  monkey. 

Tarrar  hastened  to  Catullus,  who  there- 
upon arrived,  sleepily  rubbing  his  eyes,  in 
a  wide  silk  indoor  simar ;  his  grey  hair  stood 
in  a  tangle  around  his  bald  skull. 

"Uncle,"  said  Lucius,  aside,  "look  here, 
if  you  please.  Those  embroideries  from 
Tyre  and  Nineveh :  I  want  them.  Bargain 
for  them." 

For  Uncle  Catullus  knew  how  to  bargain. 
He  began  by  turning  up  his  nose  at  the 
embroideries;  and  the  merchants  uttered 
loud  cries  of  protest  and  lifted  their  hands 
and  invoked  all  the  gods.  But  Uncle  Catul- 


70  THE  TOUR 

lus  scornfully   shook  his  head  and  said: 
"No,  I  won't  buy  that  trash.     Show  me 
other  things." 

Then  the  Phoenicians  showed  gold  vessels 
from  Tartessus,  but  the  Arabs  offered  per- 
fumes and  aromatics  from  Jeddah  and 
Zebid.  The  Sabaeans  displayed  wonderful 
amulets,  which  bring  luck  and  blissful 
dreams;  the  Indians  showed  tame,  trained 
snakes,  as  domestic  pets:  the  snakes  had  a 
small  sardonyx  encrusted  in  their  heads, 
where  it  had  grown  into  their  scaly  skin,  and 
they  danced  on  the  tips  of  their  tails,  to  the 
piping  of  the  Indians'  flutes.  They  were  at- 
tractive little  creatures  and  did  not  cost 
more  than  one  stater  apiece,  with  the  ebony 
casket  in  which  they  were  kept ;  and  Lucius 
impatiently  bought  them  at  once,  partly  be- 
cause Tarrar  found  them  so  attractive  and 
grinned  where  he  squatted  and  looked  on 
while  the  snakes  danced  and  twisted  one 
among  another. 

But  at  last  a  Mongolian  merchant  arrived, 
with  a  pale-yellow  face  and  narrow  eyes, 


THE  TOUR  71 

which  looked  as  though  they  were  closed,  and 
his  hair,  around  his  shaven  head,  ended  in 
a  pigtail  of  purple  silk,  with  a  tassel  to  it. 
This  merchant  offered  little  black  balls,  to 
be  smoked  in  peculiar  pipes;  he  asked 
Lucius  to  accept  a  pipe  and  a  couple  of  li ttle 
black  pills  in  a  yellow-silk  bag,  without  pay- 
ment, and  to  smoke  them  when  he  had  the 
opportunity.  The  intoxication  which  they 
produced  was  something  very  peculiar,  said 
the  merchant. 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Catullus  had  duly  suc- 
ceeded in  acquiring  the  embroideries  from 
Tyre  and  Nineveh  at  a  really  laughable  price 
and  presented  them  to  his  nephew,  who  of 
course  paid  for  them  in  his  stead.  But, 
when  Lucius  held  them  in  his  hands — they 
were  narrow  strips  embroidered  with  Assy- 
rian lions  and  strange  unicorns — he  grew 
sad  and  said : 

"What  use  are  they  to  me  after  all? 
Time  was  when  I  should  have  given  them  to 
Ilia  as  a  border  for  her  stola.  Tarrar,  put 
the  pretty  embroideries  away,  with  the  Mon- 


72  THE  TOUR 

golian  pills  and  all  the  other  rubbish  which 
I  have  bought  without  wanting  to :  the  li ttle 
gold  vases  and  the  Sabaean  amulets." 

"And  the  dear  little  snakes,  my  lord?" 
asked  Tarrar,  with  glittering  eyes. 

"You  may  keep  them  ...  to  play  with," 
said  Lucius,  carelessly. 

Meanwhile  Caleb  had  had  the  cups  of 
sherbet  handed  round.  Uncle  Catullus 
thought  it  particularly  good  and  considered 
that  Lucius'  cook  ought  really  to  write  down 
this  Egyptian  recipe ;  but  Lucius  gave  his  to 
Tarrar,  who  scooped  up  the  sherbet  greedily 
with  his  black  fingers. 


CHAPTER  V 

NIGHT  had  fallen  over  the  city,  a 
dark,  starless  night.  To  escape  at- 
tention, Lucius  and  Caleb  mounted 
a  small,  inconspicuous  litter  at  the  back  of 
the  diversorium.  Caleb  sat  at  Lucius'  feet 
with  his  legs  dangling  out  of  the  litter,  which 
was  lifted  by  four  powerful  Libyans,  in 
preparation  for  departing  at  a  trot. 

1 '  Have  you  your  dagger,  my  lord  1 ' '  asked 
Caleb. 

Yes,  Lucius  had  a  dagger  in  his  girdle. 

"And  are  you  wearing  your  Sabsean 
amulets  ?" 

Yes,  Lucius  had  hung  the  amulets  which 
he  had  bought  round  his  neck,  for  Caleb  was 
full  of  confidence  in  those  talismans  of  his 
country :  the  amulets  warded  off  all  ill-luck ; 
Caleb  himself  wore  amulets  everywhere,  on 
his  chest  and  round  his  waist  and  even  on  a 
narrow  gold  bangle  round  his  ankle. 

The  bearers  scurried  through  Bruchium 

73 


74  THE  TOUR 

and  past  the  Gymnasium  and  the  Museum, 
as  though  they  had  an  enemy  at  their  heels. 
They  came  to  a  square  that  lay  higher  than 
the  Great  Harbour;  and  Lucius  looked  out 
across  the  quays  at  the  different  harbours. 
Red  and  green  and  yellow  lights  and  signals 
shone  over  a  variegated,  patched  throng  of 
ships  and  boats  and  swarming  people.  But 
the  wonder  to  Lucius'  eyes  was  the  light- 
house of  Pharos.  The  nine  stories  of  the 
tall  marble  monument,  stacked  one  on  top 
of  the  other  like  so  many  cubes,  each  cube 
smaller  than  the  one  below,  ended  in  a  sort  of 
cupola,  where  a  heap  of  burning  coal 
gleamed  from  immense  mirrors  and  re- 
flectors, which  turned  and  turned  con- 
tinually, sending  bright,  broad  rays  from  the 
summit  of  the  tower  upon  the  harbours, 
which  they  lit  up  each  time,  before  stretching 
into  the  dark  night.  Sometimes  the  wide 
sheaves  of  light  struck  the  high  marble 
bridge  of  the  Heptastadium,  which  led  to 
the  light-house  itself  and  which  at  this  hour 
was  crowded  with  women  and  idlers. 


THE  TOUR  75 

"My  lord,"  whispered  Caleb,  "would  you 
not  like  to  get  out- .  .  .  and  walk  .  .  . 
there?  The  loveliest  women  in  Alexandria 
are  strolling  yonder  .  .  .  and  you  can  take 
your  choice." 

Lucius  shook  his  head : 

"I  want  to  go  to  the  sibyl,"  he  said. 

"Your  lordship  is  sick,"  said  Caleb. 
"Your  lordship  is  sick  with  longing  and  use- 
less pining.  The  lovely  women  of  Alex- 
andria would  cure  your  lordship.  They 
have  often  cured  me,  my  lord,  when  I  was 
sick  with  longing  and  pining. ' ' 

"Longing  and  pining  for  what,  Caleb*?" 

"For  my  country,  for  Saba,  my  lord,  for 
Saba,  the  fairest  and  dearest  country  in  the 
world,  my  lord,  which  I  have  had  to 
leave  .  .  .  for  the  sake  of  business,  my 
lord,  for  the  sake  of  business.  For  we  do 
no  business  in  Saba." 

The  four  bearers  trotted  on.  They  were 
now  trotting  past  the  immemorial  temple  of 
Serapis,  the  Serapeum :  sombre  and  grey  it 
lay  with  its  terraces  below  the  Acropolis; 


76  THE  TOUR 

and  numbers  of  other  shrines,  also  sombre, 
grey  and  mysterious,  were  ranged,  with  the 
needles  of  their  obelisks,  around  the  vast 
temple. 

" Those  shrines  are  deserted,  my  lord," 
said  Caleb,  "and  no  longer  find  worshippers. 
Even  the  Serapeum  is  deserted  .  .  .  for  the 
temple  of  Serapis  at  Canopus.  And  the 
modern  Alexandrians  hold  all  this  sacred 
quarter  in  but  slight  esteem  since  the  quin- 
quennial games  were  instituted  at  Nico- 
polis.  All  those  who  wish  to  do  honour  to 
Serapis  repair  to  Nicopolis  and  Canopus. 
We  will  go  there  too,  my  lord,  and  you  shall 
dream  dreams  full  of  import  high  up,  on 
the  roof  of  the  temple.  .  .  .  Look,  my  lord, 
here  we  are,  at  Rhacotis.  .  .  ." 

The  trotting  bearers  had  left  the  aristo- 
cratic quarters.  They  were  now  hurrying 
through  a  narrower,  sombre  street. 

"We  had  better  get  out  here,  my  lord,  and 
walk,"  said  Caleb.  "We  shall  find  our 
litter  here  when  we  return." 

Lucius  and  Caleb  alighted.     The  sombre 


THE  TOUR  77 

street  was  hardly  lit  but  was  nevertheless 
swarming  with  people,  including  drunken 
sailors  and  fighting  beldames. 

"It's  very  different  here,  my  lord,  from 
the  Heptastadium  and  Lake  Mareotis. 
Here  the  people,  soldiers  and  sailors  take 
their  pleasure.  Here  a  dagger  is  drawn  as 
quick  as  thought.  Here  is  nothing  but  ken- 
nels and  taverns.  But  every  traveller  who 
wants  to  know  Alexandria  comes  here.  .  .  . 
Look,  my  lord,  here  it  is,"  said  Caleb, 
"here!" 

They  had  gone  through  a  network  of  little 
lanes  and  alleys  and  come  to  a  square.  At 
one  corner  an  old,  poor  philosopher  stood 
arguing  and  expounding.  Around  him 
soldiers,  sailors  and  wenches  gathered, 
listening  attentively  to  what  he  said  of  true 
wisdom.  When  he  put  out  his  hand  for 
alms,  two  soldiers  gave  him  some  coppers, 
but  the  others  laughed  and  pelted  him  with 
rotten  vegetables.  He  fled  and  disap- 
peared, pursued  by  yelping  dogs  that  bit 
him  in  the  skirt  of  his  torn  toga. 


78  THE  TOUR 

"Will  you  not  see  the  Syrian  boys  dance, 
my  lord?"  asked  Caleb.  "They  dance  so 
beautifully." 

"No,  I  want  to  go  to  the  sibyl,"  Lucius 
answered,  impatiently. 

"We  are  close  to  her  dwelling,  my  lord," 
Caleb  declared. 

They  almost  fought  their  way  through  the 
crowd.  The  men  cursed  them  because  they 
pushed  and  the  women  flung  themselves 
round  their  necks.  Caleb  drew  his  dagger 
and  raised  it  threateningly.  Other  knives 
were  drawn  forthwith.  There  was  a  de- 
moniacal yelling  and  din.  But  they  suc- 
ceeded in  avoiding  bloodshed. 

"I  want  to  go  to  the  sibyl,"  Lucius  re- 
peated, panting  and  with  his  clenched  fists 
pushing  away  two  women  who  were  hanging 
on  to  his  arms. 

Lucius  and  Caleb  now  hurried  through  a 
reek  of  wine  past  the  open  brothels  and 
reeking  taverns.  Caleb  stopped  in  front  of 
a  small,  narrow  door  and  knocked.  It  was 
opened  by  a  little  Greek  girl,  pretty  and 


THE  TOUR  79 

delicate  as  a  Tanagra  figurine,  with  very 
large  black  eyes. 

"Is  HeropMla  within?"  asked  Caleb. 
"A  distinguished  foreigner  wishes  to  con- 
sult her." 

"I  will  tell  her,"  said  the  girl. 

They  entered  a  very  narrow  little  cham- 
ber. A  woman  came  from  behind  a  curtain. 
She  was  shrouded  in  a  white  veil,  like  a 
phantom ;  she  carried  an  earthenware  lamp ; 
and  it  was  not  possible  to  see  if  she  was 
young  or  old. 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  the  future?"  she 
asked,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"No,"  said  Lucius,  "I  want  to  know  the 
past  and  the  present.  I  want  to  know  where 
a  girl  named  Ilia  is  and  how  she  vanished 
from  my  house.  Here  is  the  sandal  which 
she  left  behind:  the  only  trace  of  her.  If 
she  ...  is  dead,  can  you  make  her  appear 
before  me,  so  that  I  may  ask  her  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  sibyl,  "I  can.  For  I  am 
descended  from  the  witch  of  En-dor." 

"Who  was  she?"  asked  Lucius. 


80  THE  TOUR 

"The  witch  who  made  Samuel  appear  be- 
fore Saul  .  .  ." 

"I  never  heard  of  them,"  said  Lucius. 

"And  another  of  my  forbears  was  my 
honoured  namesake,  Herophila  of  Ery- 
thrae." 

"Who  was  she?"  asked  Lucius. 

"She  was  the  custodian  of  the  shrine  of 
Apollo  Smintheus,  the  divine  rat-killer. 
She  prophesied  to  Hecuba  the  calamity 
which  would  cause  the  death  of  her  son 
Paris  whom  she  was  bearing  in  her  womb." 

"I  never  heard  of  her  before,"  Lucius  re- 
peated. "Tell  me  if  Ilia  is  dead." 

The  sibyl  pressed  the  blue-leather  sandal 
to  her  head;  and  her  other  hand  pressed 
Lucius'  forehead. 

"She  is  not  dead!"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of 
rapture. 

"She  is  not  dead?" 

"No,  Ilia  lives!" 

"Where?    Where  is  she?" 

The  sibyl,  in  a  trance,  muttered  incom- 
prehensible sounds: 


THE  TOUR  81 

"She  appears  .  .  .  she  appears,"  she 
stammered,  at  length.  ' 

Suddenly,  behind  her,  the  curtains  parted. 
There  was  nothing  there  but  a  smoking  tri- 
pod. Thick  fumes  filled  the  apartment  and 
rolled  on  high  like  a  heavy  curtain. 

"She  appears  .  .  .  she  appears,"  the 
sibyl  went  on  stammering. 

Lucius  stared  breathlessly. 

Suddenly,  in  the  fumes,  a  figure  was 
vaguely  outlined  as  of  a  dainty  woman, 
flimsy  and  thin,  a  shade  that  moved  to  and 
fro. 

"I  see  her!"  cried  Lucius.  "Ilia,  Ilia! 
Speak  one  word  to  me !  Come  back  to  me ! 
I  can't  live  without  you!" 

The  vision  had  vanished.  The  smoke 
clouded  away.  The  curtains  closed  again. 

"It  is  difficult,"  said  the  sibyl,  faintly,  "to 
hold  the  astral  bodies  of  living  persons  for 
more  than  a  single  moment.  I  can  summon 
the  dead  for  you  for  a  longer  time.  But 
Ilia  is  not  dead." 

"Then  where  is  she?"  cried  Lucius. 


82  THE  TOUR 

The  sibyl  now  pressed  the  sandal  to  her 
forehead  and  her  other  hand  lay  on  Lucius' 
head: 

*  *  I  see  her, ' '  said  the  sibyl.  ' '  She  is  lying 
in  a  boat,  swooning.  .  .  .  The  sea  is  ra- 
ging. .  .  .  Now  rough,  bearded  men  are  hur- 
rying her  away.  ..." 

' l  She  is  kidnapped ! ' '  cried  Lucius.  * '  By 
pirates?" 

"Yes!"  cried  the  sibyl  and  fell  into  a 
faint. 

The  pretty  Greek  girl  appeared  and  said : 

"The  fee  is  half  a  ptolemy,  in  gold.  ..." 

Caleb  paid. 

Lucius  looked  down  in  despair  upon  the 
swooning  sibyl. 

"To-morrow  night,  my  lord,"  said  the 
Greek  girl,  in  a  sing-song  voice,  "Herophila 
will  be  able  to  tell  you  more  .  .  .  where  Ilia 
was  taken  by»the  pirates." 

But  Lucius  clenched  his  fists ;  he  foamed 
at  the  mouth  with  sudden  anger  and  roared : 

"She  has  merely  read  my  own  thoughts! 
No  more !  No  more ! ' ' 


THE  TOUR  83 

He  glared  round  Mm  like  a  madman,  drew 
his  dagger  and  made  as  though  to  fling  him- 
self upon  the  sibyl's  swooning  body. 

"My  lord!  My  lord!"  shouted  Caleb, 
holding  him  back  and  gripping  him  in  his 
strong  arms. 

The  Greek  girl,  standing  in  front  of  the 
fainting  woman,  spread  wide  her  arms  and 
cried : 

"Do  not  murder  a  holy  woman,  my  lord-! 
Do  not  murder  a  poor,  holy  woman!" 

And,  as  she  stood  thus,  Lucius  saw  that 
she  was  like  the  shade  of  Ilia  .  .  .  and  he 
burst  into  sobs. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THOSE  were  sad  days.  Lucius  would 
lie  on  Ms  bed,  sobbing  like  a  child, 
then  rise  suddenly,  in  transports  of 
rage,  tear  his  clothes  or  take  up  a  stool  and 
hurl  it  at  a  marble  statue,  which  fell  down 
in  dust  and  fragments.  He  showed  Thra- 
syllus  the  door ;  and  Uncle  Catullus  kept  out 
of  the  way.  Lucius  had  ended  by  banging 
Tarrar  against  a  table;  and  the  little  slave 
had  a  deep  wound  in  his  forehead.  Caleb, 
who  was  a  good  hand  at  doctoring,  had  him- 
self bandaged  Tarrar 's  head. 

Anxiously,  in  the  palm-garden,  the  travel- 
ling merchants  whispered  about  the  weal- 
thy Roman,  who  was  sick  with  sorrow, 
and  Uncle  Catullus  whispered  in  their  com- 
pany. Thrasyllus  consoled  himself  by  vis- 
iting the  libraries  of  the  Museum  and  the 
Serapeum.  Lucius  refused  to  hear  any 
music.  He  did  not  leave  his  bed.  He  did 

84 


THE  TOUR  85 

not  eat.  He  did  not  sleep.  He  looked  un- 
shaven, lean-cheeked  and  hollow-eyed,  as  one 
who  was  desperately  sick. 

They  were  sad  days.  The  first  charm  of 
Alexandria  was  past ;  and  Lucius  cursed  his 
journey,  his  whole  life  and  everybody.  In 
his  impotent  pain  he  groaned,  sobbed  and 
raved.  Master  Ghizla  ordained  silence  and 
quiet  around  his  rooms.  Not  a  sandal 
creaked,  not  a  voice  sounded. 

Lucius  listened  to  this  stillness.  It  was 
after  luncheon,  which  Uncle  Catullus  had 
taken  alone  with  Thrasyllus.  And  in  the 
burning  sunny  stillness  of  that  glowing  June 
Lucius  suddenly  heard  a  child  sobbing. 

He  rose  from  his  couch.  The  sobs  came 
from  the  back-garden ;  and  Lucius  raised  the 
curtain  and  looked  out.  There,  listening 
for  his  master's  gong,  sat  Tarrar,  huddled, 
like  a  little  monkey,  in  a  gaudy  coat.  He 
wore  a  napkin  round  his  head  as  a  bandage. 
And  he  was  weeping,  with  little  sobs,  as  if 
he  were  in  great  sorrow. 

" Tarrar!"  cried  Lucius. 


86  THE  TOUR 

The  little  slave  started  up: 

"My  lord!"  he  answered. 

And  he  rose  and  approached  with  comical 
reverence  and  sobbed. 

"Tarrar,"  said  Lucius,  "why  are  you 
weeping  ?  Are  you  in  pain  ? ' ' 

"No,  my  lord,"  said  Tarrar.  "I  beg 
pardon,  my  lord,  for  weeping.  I  must  not 
weep  in  your  august  presence.  I  humbly 
beg  your  pardon,  my  lord.  But  I  am  weep- 
ing because  .  .  .  because  .  .  .  because  I  am 
so  unhappy." 

"And  why  are  you  unhappy?  Because  I 
struck  you?  Because  you  are  in  pain? 
Because  you  fell  and  made  a  hole  in  your 
head?" 

"No,  my  lord,"  said  Tarrar,  trying  to  con- 
trol himself,  "not  because  you  struck  me. 
I  am  your  little  slave,  my  lord,  and  you  have 
the  right  to  strike  me.  And  also  not  because 
I  am  in  pain :  there  is  only  a  little  burning 
pain  now,  for  Caleb  bandaged  my  head  this 
morning  with  cool  ointment.  The  hole  is 


THE  TOUR  87 

not  so  very  deep  either;  and,  when  it  is 
healed,  the  scar  will  remind  me  that  I  belong 
to  you,  my  lord,  and  that  I  am  your  little 
slave." 

"But  then  why  are  you  weeping,  Tarrar, 
and  why  are  you  unhappy  ? ' ' 

"I  am  weeping,  my  lord,"  Tarrar  began, 
"because  .  .  ." 

And  then  he  could  restrain  himself  no 
longer,  comical,  respectful  little  monkey  that 
he  was,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Lucius  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  curly 
head  : 

"Why  are  you  weeping,  child?" 

"Because  the  snakes  wouldn't  dance  any 
more!"  sobbed  Tarrar,  in  despair.  "Be- 
cause one  of  them  is  now  dead  and  the  other 
gone,  for  it  crept  out  of  its  skin  and  left  its 
skin  behind!  Because,  whatever  pains  I 
took  to  pipe  the  magic  tune  on  the  flute — in 
the  garden  behind  the  house,  so  as  not  to 
make  a  noise  or  disturb  you — the  snakes 
would  not  dance  any  more  ...  as  they  did 


88  THE  TOUR 

when  the  merchant  piped  to  them !  And  be- 
cause now  .  .  .  one  of  the  snakes  is  dead, 
my  lord,  and  the  other  crept  away  out  of  its 
skin!" 

And  Tarrar,  overcome  with  misery, 
sobbed  aloud  and  showed  his  master  the 
snake  and  the  ebony  casket,  from  which  a 
skin  hung,  with  a  square  piece  of  glass 
gummed  to  the  head. 

Lucius  gave  a  melancholy  smile.  Was  he 
not  himself  miserable,  like  Tarrar,  because 
he  also  had  been  robbed  of  his  plaything? 
And  he  said : 

"Come  with  me,  Tarrar." 

And  he  took  the  little  slave  by  the  hand 
and  led  him  to  his  room. 

He  sat  down,  with  Tarrar  standing  in 
front  of  him.  Then  he  said : 

"Tarrar,  I  am  sorry  for  hurting  you  so 
badly.  Forgive  me,  Tarrar. " 

But  Tarrar  shook  his  head : 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  forgive  you,  my  lord," 
he  said,  earnestly,  with  great  dim  eyes. 
t  i  You  are  the  master. ' ' 


THE  TOUR  89 

"Tarrar,"  Lucius  continued,  "when  we 
are  back  in  Rome,  you  -shall  be  free.  I  will 
set  you  free.  And  you  shall  no  longer  be  a 
little  slave.  But  you  shall  go  to  school,  to 
the  freedmen's  college.  And  learn  all  sorts 
of  things.  And  become  very  clever,  like 
Thrasyllus.  And  I  will  give  you  money. 
And  you  will  be  able  to  do  whatever  you 
please." 

Tarrar  was  a  little  taken  aback : 

"You  are  very  kind,  my  lord,"  he  said. 
"But,  if  I  go  to  school,  who  will  fold  your 
clothes?  And  listen  for  your  gong?  You 
are  not  driving  me  away,  my  lord,  because 
I  was  so  unhappy?  I  would  rather  stay 
with  you,  my  lord,  I  would  rather  remain 
your  little  slave  .  .  .  and  I  will  never  again 
be  so  disrespectful  as  to  weep.  ...  I 
would  rather  remain  your  stupid  little 
slave." 

"You  shall  be  free,  Tarrar.  But  you  will 
be  allowed  to  ser^e  me  all  the  same." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  free,  my  lord.  What 
use  is  freedom  to  me?  I  am  your  little 


90  THE  TOUR. 

slave.  I  should  always  be  your  little  slave 
just  as  before. ' ' 

"Then  ask  me  something  else,  Tarrar, 
something  that  you  would  like  very  much." 

Tarrar  grinned  with  his  white  teeth 
through  his  tears : 

"May  I  tell  you,  my  lord?" 

"Yes." 

Tarrar  hesitated.     Then  he  said,  shyly : 

"Two  other  little  dancing  snakes,  my 
lord." 

Lucius  laughed  softly: 

"Child,"  he  said.  "I  will  give  you  two 
other  little  snakes!  But  I  fear  that  those 
also  will  refuse  to  dance  as  only  the  Indian 
merchant  can  make  them  dance." 

"I  fear  so  too,"  said  Tarrar,  reflecting. 
"The  snake  that  is  still  alive  has  crept  back 
to  the  merchant,  I  expect,  out  of  the  skin 
which  it  left  behind  it.  I  also  fear  that  the 
new  snakes  would  refuse  to  dance.  .  .  . 
Then  I  would  rather  have  nothing,  my  lord. 
I  don't  want  anything.  If  only  I  may  serve 
you." 


THE  TOUR  91 

"Then  get  everything  ready  to  shave 
me  .  .  .  and  tell  the  slaves  to  prepare  the 
bath." 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  Tarrar,  with 
alacrity. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"Mother  of  Eros,  hear  thy  slave! 

' '  Child  of  the  foam,  great  goddess  of  love, 

Aphrodite,  look  down  from  above! 

Thou,  who  dost  madden  the  gods  with  desire, 

Thou,  who  f ulfillest  men 's  hearts  with  thy  fire, 
All  but  the  heart  of  my  lord  that  I  crave, 
Hark  to  thy  slave ! 

' '  Spill  this  hot  blood  that  courses  in  vain  for  him, 
Darken  these  eyes  that  are  heavy  with  pain  for  him, 
Smite  the  parched  lips  that  he  sees  but  to  spurn  them, 
The  hands  stretched  in  love — take  them,  break  them 
and  burn  them ! 

' '  Then,  in  the  place  where  lately  he  strode, 
Mingle  mine  ash  with  the  dust  of  the  road ; 
Thus,  though  I  win  not  a  glance  from  his  eye, 
Thus,  though  as  ever  he  pass  me  by 
Careless,  unseeing,  at  least  my  lord 's  heel 
Cannot  but  touch  me,  at  least  I  shall  feel 
The  embrace  of  his  foot ;  and  his  sandall  'd  sole 
Shall  kiss  my  dust  and  make  me  whole. 

' '  Then  let  the  heart  that  he  has  press  'd, 
The  ashen  lips  by  him  caressed 
Sink  low  in  the  lowly  dust  of  the  road 
Lest  another  tread  where  late  he  trod. 

92 


THE  TOUR  93 

' '  Mother  of  Eros,  hear  thy  slave ! 

' '  Child  of  the  foam,  great  goddess  of  love, 

Aphrodite,  look  down  from  above ! 

Thou,  who  dost  madden  the  gods  with  desire, 

Thou,  who  fulfillest  men's  hearts  with  thy  fire, 
All  but  the  heart  of  my  lord  that  I  crave, 
Hark  to  thy  slave ! ' ' 

CORA'S  song  rang  through  the  fall- 
ing night.  Her  clear  voice,  tinkling 
as  though  with  little  golden  bells,  at 
first  soft  and  hushed,  rose  throbbing  in  pas- 
sion and  then  broke  like  a  crystal  ray  and 
melted  in  mournfulness  and  plaintive 
prayer. 

The  shadows  lay  heaped  under  the  palm- 
trees.  Outside  the  doors  of  their  apart- 
ments, in  the  galleries  of  the  diversorium, 
sat  the  travelling  merchants,  squatting  or 
lying  on  mat  or  rug,  listening.  Uncle  Catul- 
lus lay  in  a  hammock  and  Thrasyllus  sat  be- 
side him  and  looked  up  at  the  stars,  which 
were  beginning  to  show  like  silver  daisies  in 
wide,  blue  meadows. 

"You  have  sung  beautifully,  Cora,"  said 


94  THE  TOUR 

Uncle  Catullus  to  the  slave,  who  was  sitting 
on  the  ground  with  the  four-stringed  harp 
before  her. 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,"  said  the  slave. 

"Why  not  call  me  uncle?"  said  Catullus, 
good-naturedly. 

"I  should  not  dare,"  said  Cora,  smiling. 

"Ilia  used  to  call  me  uncle." 

"I  am  not  Ilia,  my  lord." 

Tarrar  appeared  in  the  pillared  portico. 

But  his  appearance  was  a  surprise.  For 
Tarrar,  no  longer  bandaged,  looked  like  a 
little  savage:  he  wore  his  Libyan  festive 
garment ;  a  girdle  of  feathers  hung  round  his 
waist ;  he  was  crowned  with  a  head-dress  of 
feathers.  And  he  stood  grinning. 

"Great  gods,  Tarrar!"  cried  Uncle  Catul- 
lus, with  a  start.  "What  have  you  done  to 
yourself?  You  look  like  a  little  cannibal! 
You  frighten  me!  What's  happening?" 

"We  are  going  to  Canopus,  my  lord,  to- 
night!" cried  Tarrar,  jubilantly.  "My 
Lord  Lucius  lets  you  know  that  we  are  all 


THE  TOUR  95 

going  to  Canopus  this  very  night !  Here  is 
his  lordship  himself!"  • 

And  Tarrar  pointed  triumphantly  to 
Lucius,  who  appeared  upon  the  threshold. 
Cora  had  risen  and  now  curtseyed  low  to  the 
ground,  with  outstretched  arms. 

Lucius  looked  like  a  young  Egyptian  god. 
He  wore  an  Egyptian  robe  of  striped  bys- 
sus,  with  a  border  of  hieroglyphics  worked 
in  heavy  embroidery  and  precious  stones; 
his  legs  were  encased  in  hose  of  gold  tissue ; 
about  his  head  was  an  Egyptian  coif,  like 
that  of  a  sphinx,  with  broad,  projecting, 
striped  bands,  which  fell  to  his  shoulders; 
he  glittered  with  strange  jewels  and  was 
wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  fine  gold  net, 
like  a  transparent  cloak,  like  an  immaterial 
shroud.  And  he  approached  with  a  smile, 
brilliantly,  superhumanly  beautiful. 

"  Great  sacred  gods!  Great  sacred 
gods!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Catullus. 

He  rose;  Thrasyllus  rose  too;  and  the 
merchants  gathered  round  and,  in  salaam 


96  THE  TOUR 

upon  salaam,  showed  their  admiration  for 
the  brilliant  stranger. 

" Lucius,  what  possesses  you?  What  is 
happening  $  Have  you  turned  into  Serapis 
himself  ?" 

"No,  uncle,"  smiled  Lucius,  "I  am  merely 
clad  in  ceremonial  raiment  because  I  want  to 
go  to  Canopus  and  dream  on  the  roof  of  the 
temple  of  Serapis.  It  is  the  great  feast; 
and  Caleb" — he  pointed  to  Caleb  stepping 
forward — "has  persuaded  me  to  go  this 
night  in  state  to  Canopus.  You  are  coming 
too,  uncle ;  you  also,  Thrasyllus ;  we  shall  all 
go-,  all  my  freedmen  and  slaves.  Caleb  will 
see  about  a  boat." 

A  violent  and  feverish  excitement  fol- 
.lowed.  Slaves,  male  and  female,  streamed 
from  every  side  of  the  diversorium,  rejoic- 
ing and  clasping  their  hands  in  amazement. 

"When  any  princely  noble,  such  as  his 
lordship,"  Caleb  explained,  "goes  to  Cano- 
pus, to  the  feast  of  Serapis  thrice  holy,  he 
goes  in  the  greatest  state,  with  all  his  house- 
hold to  accompany  him." 


THE  TOUR  97 

"So  I  am  going  too,  as  I  belong  to  the 
household!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Catullus. 
"Only  .  .  .  am  I  to  rig  myself  out  like 
that  ?  And  where  shall  I  find  such  a  sump- 
tuous raiment1?" 

"My  lord,"  said  Caleb,  "you  will  find 
everything  ready  in  your  chamber.  You 
too,  Master  Thrasyllus." 

Uncle  Catullus  hurried  away,  clasping  his 
fat  stomach  in  his  two  hands.  You  never 
knew  where  you  were  with  that  Lucius! 
For  days  and  days  he  had  been  mourning 
and  sobbing  and  lamenting;  he  had  re- 
mained invisible  and  had  eaten  nothing  .  .  . 
and  there,  there  he  appeared,  decked  out  like 
a  young  god,  and  wanted  to  go  to  Canopus,  to 
dream  on  the  roof  of  the  temple ! 

"And  I  had  just  been  reckoning  on  a 
quiet  evening,  because  I  feel  that  I've  over- 
loaded my  stomach!"  moaned  Uncle  Catul- 
lus. '  *  Egypt  will  be  the  death  of  me ! " 

Lights  everywhere,  links  and  torches; 
fever  and  gaiety  everywhere,  because  one 
and  all  were  going  to  Canopus  that  night. 


98  THE  TOUR 

What  a  surprise !  Their  lord  was  no  longer 
sick!  It  was  the  great  feast!  It  was  the 
feast  of  Serapis!  The  feast  of  dreams! 
The  water-festival  and  the  boat-festival! 
It  was  the  summer  festival  of  Canopus ! 

Vettius  and  Rufus,  the  two  stewards,  gave 
orders  here,  there  and  everywhere.  One 
and  all,  they  said,  were  to  deck  themselves 
in  festive  garb.  lone,  the  old  female  slave, 
^  who  had  charge  of  the  harpists  and  dancers, 
was  given  leave  to  buy  from  the  merchants 
whatever  she  needed,  veils  and  ornaments. 

"We  are  going  to  Canopus,  we  are  going 
to  Canopus!"  cried  the  women,  in  joyful 
chorus.  "Quick,  lone,  hand  me  the  poppy- 
rouge!  Here,  a  stick  of  antimony!  I 
want  a  blue  veil,  lone,  and  blue  lotus-flowers 
for  my  hair!  Quick,  quick,  the  master  is 
ready!'7 

"We  are  going  to  Canopus,  we  are  going 
to  Canopus!"  Cora  cried,  joyfully,  with  the 
rest.  "My  lord  was  like  a  young  god,  he 
looked  like  Serapis  himself!  lone,  I  must 
have  a  net  of  gold  thread  and  a  dreaming- 


THE  TOUR  99 

veil  of  gold  thread  and  pink  water-lilies  for 
my  hair!  I  want  a  wreath  of  pink  water- 
lilies!" 

Lucius  from  afar  beheld  this  stir,  in  the 
reflection  of  the  lamps  and  torches  in  the 
night.  Slaves  were  running  to  and  fro; 
litters  were  prepared.  He  thought  only  of 
Ilia.  He  wanted  to  wrap  himself  in  the 
dreaming-veil  and  to  lie  on  the  temple-roof 
and  dream  where  Ilia  was,  where  she  had 
been  carried  ...  by  the  pirates.  And  he 
stood  like  a  priest,  gazing  solemnly  before 
him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

DURING  those  evenings  of  the  sum- 
mer festival,  Alexandria  was  lighted 
more  brilliantly  than  Rome  itself. 
The  town  glittered  with  hundreds  of  lights, 
lamps,  lanterns,  torches  and  links;  it  glit- 
tered in  its  harbours,  where  the  blinding 
sheaves  of  light  floated  from  the  dome  of 
the  light-house ;  it  glittered  in  its  two  main 
•streets,  which  intersected  each  other;  it 
glittered  in  the  colonnades  of  the  Museum 
and  the  Gymnasium,  colonnades  and  stadia 
themselves  restlessly  teeming,  up  to  where 
the  multitude  were  making  merry  for  the 
festival. 

But  above  all  it  glittered  over  Lake 
Mareotis  and  the  Canopus  Canal.  The 
splendid  villas  on  the  lake  were  bright  with 
many-coloured  lanterns  and  balls  of  fire ;  the 
temple  of  Aphrodite,  on  the  eyot,  was  sil- 
houetted in  flaring  lines;  and  over  the  gol- 

100 


THE  TOUR  101 

den  waters  of  the  lake  itself  the  illuminated 
boats  pressed  and  crowded,  filled  with  song, 
filled  with  dance,  full  of  colour,  gladness 
and  joy;  streamers  flapped  and  rugs  trailed 
over  the  sides  of  the  boats  down  to  the  wa- 
ter. 

Through  the  lighted  streets  the  bearers 
hurried  and  thronged  with  the  litters  to- 
wards Lake  Mareotis.  They  hurried  from 
the  diversorium,  with  the  harpists  and  the 
dancing-girls  and  a  great  procession  of 
slaves  in  festive  raiment.  An  army  of 
f reedmen  followed  on  horses  and  mules ;  and 
the  passersby  pointing  to  the  imposing  pro- 
cession, evidently  the  household  of  a  very 
wealthy  Eoman  who  was  going  to  Canopus 
to  dream. 

The  procession  reached  a  landing-stage  on 
the  lake.  Here  a  great  barge  lay  moored, 
a  thalamegus  which  Caleb  had  succeeded  in 
hiring  at  the  last  moment  for  a  vast  sum 
of  money.  The  thalamegus  was  painted 
blue  and  gilded,  with  blue-and-gilt  oars, 
which  stuck  out  like  so  many  swan's-legs. 


102  THE  TOUR 

Caleb  had  had  her  covered  with  tapestry  and 
adorned  with  wreaths  of  flowers  and  fes- 
toons of  leaves.  The  silver  statue  of 
Aphrodite  stood  on  the  prow,  with  incense 
burning  before  it.  The  troop  of  slaves, 
male  and  female,  and  freedmen,  with  Vet- 
tius  and  Rufus,  hastened  on  board  to  await 
the  master's  coming. 

A  dense  multitude  pressed  round  to  look 
on  greedily.  Now  a  Roman  litter  ap- 
proached, recognizable  by  its  square  shape ; 
yet  another  and  the  master  alighted,  with  the 
aid  of  his  slaves,  male  and  female.  He  was 
accompanied  by  an  old,  .corpulent  kinsman 
and  a  grave  tutor. 

"He's  going  dreaming!  He's  going 
dreaming!"  cried  the  populace.  "See,  he 
has  his  dreaming-veil  on!  He  looks  like 
Serapis  himself!" 

Beggars  crowded  round  the  travellers : 

"Divine  lord  and  exalted  prince!  Image 
of  Horus,  the  son  of  Osiris !  May  Serapis 
send  you  good  dreams!  May  Serapis  load 
you  with  blessings!  May  he  keep  bad 


THE  TOUR  103 

dreams  locked  far  from  you,  in  the  shadowy 
underworld ! " 

The  stewards  distributed  money  among 
the  beggars.  Lucius  had  gone  on  board. 
The  slave-girls  scattered  flowers  before  his 
feet  as  he  walked. 

The  song  of  the  rowers  was  heard  from  the 
body  of  the  boat.  The  creaking  ropes  were 
cast  off ;  the  barge  glided  towards  the  middle 
of  the  lake.  She  gleamed  with  blue,  green 
and  yellow  lights  and  left  a  trail  of  bright- 
ness in  her  wake;  the  water  was  bright 
around  her.  On  the  banks  the  villas  and 
palaces  of  light  stood  in  gardens  of  light. 

Hundreds  of  other  barges  were  gliding 
slowly  in  the  same  direction.  Above  the 
monotonous  drone  of  the  rowers'  song  rang 
ballads  and  hymns.  The  music  of  citharas 
was  heard  in  descending  chords;  the  harps 
rang  out ;  the  notes  of  double  flutes  quavered 
through  the  evening  air  with  a  magic  in- 
toxication of  melody. 

The  waters  of  the  lake  stood  high.  It 
was  the  month  when  the  kindly  Nile  stepped 


104  THE  TOUR 

outside  its  banks  with  a  moist  foot  and  over- 
flowed the  Delta.  The  golden  waters  of  the 
lake  lapped  higher  than  the  marble  steps  of 
the  villas  down  which  the  brilliant  hetaira3 
descended,  holding  the  lappets  of  their  veils, 
to  take  their  seats  on  the  cushions  of  their 
barges. 

Flowers  fell  on  the  water,  in  unison  with 
the  notes  of  hymn  and  song.  All  the  craft, 
hundreds  and  hundreds,  large  and  small, 
barges  and  coracles,  square  rafts  and  canoes, 
pressed  gently  forward  towards  the  entrance 
of  the  Canopian  Canal.  On  the  banks  were 
thousands  of  idlers  and  spectators,  all  the 
people  of  Alexandria. 

The  vessels  glided  to  the  harmony  of  the 
twanged  strings  into  the  broad  canal.  It 
was  very  full  of  water;  the  banks  were 
flooded.  Reeds  tall  as  a  man,  biblos  and 
cyamos,  rose  like  pillars,  blossoming  during 
this  month  with  thousands  of  waving 
plumes:  the  leaves  of  the  biblos  were  long 
and  bending  over,  as  though  each  were  lan- 
guidly broken;  those  of  the  cyamos  were 


THE  TOUR  105 

round  as  scales  and  goblet-deep,  stacked  one 
above  the  other  along  the  stems,  like  cups.1 
In  the  light  on  the  barges,  golden  patches 
glowed  among  the  stalks ;  and  the  reeds  and 
rushes  blossomed  up  as  though  out  of  molten 
gold. 

Here  lay  the  Canopian  harbour,  here  the 
suburb  of  Eleusis;  and  the  canal  split  into 
two  branches.  The  narrower  channel  led 
to  Schedia,  on  the  Nile ;  the  broader  led  past 
Nicopolis  to  Canopus. 

Beyond  stretched  the  sea,  wide  and  blue. 
Only  a  narrow  strip  of  land  separated  it 
from  the  canal;  and  it  lay  boundless  under 
a  thousand  twinkling  stars. 

"  Lucius, "  said  Thrasyllus,  sitting  spell- 
bound at  the  feet  of  the  young  Roman,  who 
sat  on  a  raised  throne  and  gazed  in  front  of 
him  like  a  priest,  full  of  longing  for  his 
dream  of  that  night,  "  Lucius,  my  Lord 
Catullus,  look!  We  have  passed  Nicopolis, 
with  its  amphitheatre  and  stadium;  and 

i  These  cyamos-leaves  were  actually  used  for  kitchen-utensils 
by  the  people  of  Alexandria;  and  their  sale  provided  a  regular 
livelihood. 


106  THE  TOUR 

yonder  lies  Taposiris,  with  Cape  Zephy- 
rium ;  and  on  a  height  I  can  see  the  temple  of 
Aphrodite  Arsinoe." 

"I  see,"  said  Lucius,  turning  his  eyes 
towards  the  temple,  which  was  lit  with  lines 
of  fire  and  rose  above  the  water  like  a 
mansion  in  Olympus. 

"I  see,"  echoed  Uncle  Catullus,  seated  by 
Lucius'  side. 

"I  was  reading,"  Thrasyllus  explained, 
"that  at  the  same  place  where  that  temple 
now  stands  there  once  stood  the  city  of 
Thonis,  named  after  the  king  who  hos- 
pitably entreated  Menelaus  and  Helen. 
Homer  mentions  it  and  speaks  of  the  secret 
herbs  and  precious  balsams  which  Helen  re- 
ceived from  Queen  Polydamna,  Thonis' 
spouse." 

"You  know  everything,  Thrasyllus,"  said 
Uncle  Catullus,  warmly,  "and  it  is  a  joy  to 
travel  with  you." 

"Tell  the  slave  from  Cos  to  sing  the  Hymn 
to  Aphrodite  as  we  row  past  the  goddess' 
temple,"  said  Lucius. 


THE  TOUR,  107 

Thrasyllus  went  to  Cora  and  communi- 
cated the  master's  order.  Forthwith  a 
group  of  singers  and  dancers  rose  to  their 
feet.  Cora  herself  struck  the  resounding 
chords.  And  she  sang: 

"Mother  of  Eros,  hear  thy  slave! 

' '  Child  of  the  foam,  great  goddess  of  love, 

Aphrodite,  look  down  from  above! 

Thou,  who  dost  madden  the  gods  with  desire, 

Thou,  who  fulfillest  men's  hearts  with  thy  fire, 
All  but  the  heart  of  my  lord  that  I  crave, 
Hark  to  thy  slave ! ' ' 

She  stood  as  one  inspired  while  she  sang, 
with  her  fingers  on  the  chords,  facing  the 
temple.  Around  her  the  girls  danced  to  the 
song.  The  movements  of  their  lithe  bodies, 
light  as  the  ripple  of  a  silken  scarf  in  the 
breeze,  met  and  dissolved  in  picture  after 
picture  with  each  word  of  the  song.  The 
singer's  voice  swelled  ^crystal-clear.  From 
the  bank  of  the  canal,  from  the  open  houses, 
on  the  temple-steps  the  people  listened  to  her 
song.  In  the  tall  reeds  lay  smaller  boats, 


108  THE  TOUR 

wherein  a  man  and  woman  embraced  in  love. 
Their  hands  thrust  aside  the  yielding  stems ; 
and  their  smiles  glanced  at  Cora. 

"All  but  the  heart  of  my  lord  that  I  crave, 
Hark  to  thy  slave ! ' ' 

the  other  singers  were  now  singing  after 
her. 

"She  sings  well,"  said  Lucius. 

Cora  heard  him.  She  blushed  crimson 
between  the  great  rose-coloured  flowers  at 
her  temples.  But  she  behaved  as  though 
she  had  heard  nothing.  And  she  sat  down 
quietly,  among  her  companions,  at  the  foot 
of  the  silver  statue  of  Aphrodite. 

The  barge  glided  on  slowly  with  the 
others.  From  all  of  them,  in  turns,  came 
music.  The  water  of  the  flooding  canal  was 
like  a  broad  golden  mirror.  On  the  bank, 
between  the  stalks  of  the  tall  reeds,  the  open 
taverns  and  brothels  rose,  wreathed  in 
flowers,  as  from  an  enchanted  lake.  The 
women  in  them  beckoned  and  waved  with 
long  lotus-stems. 


THE  TOUR  109 

But  the  barges  glided  on,  towards  Cano- 
pus.  They  were  all  going  to  the  temple  of 
Serapis.  Not  until  after  the  dreams  would 
the  brothels  and  taverns  be  visited.  The 
orgy  was  to  come  after  the  dream. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  the  strange  bright  summer  night  of 
light,  lit  by  the  sheen  of  the  stars  and 
the  glow  of  the  lamps,  Canopus  rose 
amid  its  slender  obelisks  and  its  spreading 
palm-trees.  The  barges  lay  moored  to  the 
long  quay,  one  beside  the  other.  One  sol- 
emn train  of  pilgrims  after  another  flowed 
down  the  street  to  the  temple  of  Serapis. 
The  town  was  alive  with  the  whisper  of  mu- 
sic and  aglow  with  illumination. 

It  was  mid-night.  From  the  temple  of 
Serapis  heavy  gong-strokes  sounded,  like  a 
divine,  golden  thunder  rolling  at  regular  in- 
tervals under  the  stars.  The  singing  pro- 
cessions, bathed  in  torchlight,  streamed 
towards  the  temple. 

There  was  a  wide  avenue  paved  with  large, 
square  stones.  This  avenue,  or  dromos,  led 
to  the  sanctuary,  the  tememos,  along  a 
double  row  of  immense  basalt  sphinxes,  half 
woman,  half  lioness;  half  man,  half  bull. 


no 


THE  TOUR  111 

They  were  drawn  up  like  superhuman 
sentinels  that  had  turned  to  stone ;  and  their 
great  human  faces  stared  raptly  into  the 
night.  In  between  the  sphinxes,  the  co- 
loured lamps  and  lanterns  blossomed  like 
lotus-flowers,  glowing  blue,  red  and  yellow. 
The  processions  streamed  into  the  dromos 
at  pilgrims'  pace.  Through  the  dromos 
they  reached  the  first  propylseum,  then  the 
second,  the  third,  the  fourth.  These  con- 
sisted of  a  gigantic  series  of  heavy  pylons, 
painted  with  hieroglyphics:  a  veritable 
forest  of  pylon-trunks  rising  in  serried 
ranks  of  menacing  columns  and  crowned 
with  heavy  architraves  which  seemed  to  sup- 
port the  starry  realm  of  the  summer  night  it- 
self. Through  these  endless  rows  of  pillars 
the  dense  multitude  of  pilgrims  in  search  of 
their  dreams  marched  to  the  music  of  hymns. 
It  marched  with  its  steady,  slow,  regular,  re- 
ligious tread.  And  monotonous  as  the 
rhythm  of  its  march  was  the  melody  of  its 
hymn,  borne  upon  ever  the  same  harp- 
chords. 


112  THE  TOUR 

Lucius'  procession  marched  with  the 
others.  He  walked  gravely,  with  Catallus 
by  his  side ;  Thrasyllus  followed ;  the  slaves, 
male  and  female,  followed.  In  front  of  him 
strode  his  musicians,  singers  and  dancers. 
And  Cora 's  voice  rose  only  a  little  higher  in 
the  ever-repeated  hymn  to  the  god  Serapis. 

The  temple  itself  produced  a  sense  of  in- 
finity. An  immense  fore-court,  or  pronaos, 
soared  on  high  with  its  pillars,  a  forest  of 
pylons  crowned  by  the  roof,  with  its  painted 
hieroglyphics.  The  pronaos  gave  admit- 
tance to  the  sanctuary,  the  holy  of  holies,  an 
immeasurable  empty  space,  without  image, 
without  altar,  without  anything.  Never- 
theless as  it  were  a  mysterious  sanctity  de- 
scended here,  because  of  the  awful  sense  of 
infinity,  because  of  the  height,  the  impres- 
sive, colossal  dimensions.  The  " wings,"  or 
pteres,  the  two  side-walls,  sculptured  with 
symbolic  bas-reliefs,  painted  gold,  azure  and 
scarlet,  approached  each  other  with  slanting 
lines  in  a  mystic  perspective,  where  a  cloud 
of  fragrance  hovered  like  a  conflagration. 


THE  TOUR  113 

Behind  this  the  holy  of  holies  lost  itself,  the 
abode  of  the  god,  of  Serapis;  invisible  the 
statue.  A  swarm  of  acolytes,  zacori  and 
neocori,  were  officiating  on  ascending  stairs, 
in  worship  before  close-drawn  hyacinth  cur- 
tains. 

The  processions  divided  themselves  along 
the  wings,  the  side-walls,  as  directed  by  the 
temple-keepers'  wands.  It  was  as  though  a 
broad  stream  were  dividing  into  two  rivers. 
At  the  end  of  the  wings,  behind  the  holy  of 
holies,  flights  of  stairs  widened  in  the  open 
night,  leading  to  terraces,  the  one  ever 
higher  than  the  other,  so  that  they  could  not 
be  overlooked.  The  golden  gong-strokes 
solemnly  rolled  and  thundered,  echoing 
heavily  and  loudly. 

Over  the  terraces,  in  a  constant  round,  up 
and  down,  marched  the  chief  priests,  the 
hieropsalts,  the  hieroscopes,  the  hierogram- 
mats,  the  pastophors,  the  sphagists  and  the 
stolists.  The  hieropsalts  sang  the  hymns 
to  the  sacred  harps ;  the  hieroscopes  prophe- 
sied from  the  entrails  of  victims ;  the  hiero- 


114  THE  TOUR 

grammats  guarded  the  secrets  of  the  Her- 
metic wisdom;  the  pastophors  carried  the 
images  of  Anubis,  with  the  dog's  head,  in 
silver  boats;  the  sphagists  were  the  sacrifi- 
cial priests;  the  stolists  served  the  sacred 
images,  adorned  them,  tended  them  with 
ever  clean  and  perfumed  hands.  But 
among  the  hierogrammats  strode  the 
prophets.  They  had  beheld  the  godhead 
face  to  face;  they  knew  the  past  and  the 
future,  they  knew  the  meaning  of  the  sacred 
dreams.  They  were  very  holy;  and  the 
oldest  of  them  were  most  holy.  Whenever 
they  approached,  the  people  sank  to  the 
ground  and  kissed  the  pavement,  with  hands 
uplifted. 

The  sacred  hour  approached,  the  hour 
when  Serapis,  would  send  the  sacred  dreams 
from  heaven,  out  of  the  sun  itself,  when 
all  the  procession  would  have  streamed  in, 
when  the  gates  of  the  dromos  would  have 
slammed  with  their  quintal-heavy  mono- 
lithic doors,  when  the  last  gong-stroke  would 
clatter  away  in  the  sacred  night. 


THE  TOUR  115 

From  the  terraces  the  town,  the  canal  and 
the  lake  lay  visible  as  in  one  golden  shim- 
mer of  lights.  But  on  the  terraces  them- 
selves suddenly  an  incredible  stillness 
reigned.  Not  a  voice,  not  a  rustle  sounded 
from  out  of  that  multitude  of  thousands. 
And  on  the  granite  pavement  the  pilgrims 
were  stretched  one  beside  the  other. 

In  between  the  rows  the  temple-keepers 
moved,  the  neocori.  And  they  bent  inces- 
santly over  the  pilgrims  and  covered  them 
with  the  dreaming-nets  and  veils,  while 
zacori  slung  the  censers.  A  heavy,  intoxi- 
cating perfume  of  almost  stifling  aromatic 
vapour  was  wafted  through  the  air. 

Suddenly,  through  the  silence,  the  harps 
of  the  hieropsalts  struck  the  sacred  chord. 

There  was  a  short  hymn,  one  single 
phrase,  which  melted  away. 

On  the  vast  terraces  the  multitude  of  the 
thousands  of  pilgrims  lay  motionless  under 
nets  and  veils,  their  eyes  closed.  Not  a 
sound  came  from  the  illuminated  city.  The 
sacred  silence  reigned  wide  and  mystic, 


116  THE  TOUR 

fraught  with  terror,  over  the  sea,  along  the 
starry  sky,  over  the  city  and  the  temple. 
For  Serapis,  invisible,  was  rising  from  the 
underworld,  to  bring  the  dreams. 

He  rose  in  a  cloud  of  dreams,  out  of  the 
sacred,  subterranean  Hell,  where  he  reigns 
even  as  Osiris  reigns  in  high  Heaven.  He 
is  Osiris  himself;  between  him  and  Osiris 
there  is  no  difference.  He  is  two.  While 
Osiris  is  the  benevolent  Almighty  above,  he 
is  the  benevolent  Almighty  below.  He  op- 
poses Typhon,  even  as  Osiris  combated 
Typhon.  Victory  falls  to  him  in  the  end, 
even  as  it  did  to  Osiris. 

Now  he  rises,  in  the  cloud  of  dreams. 
For  it  is  his  feast,  the  feast  of  his  kindly 
waters,  which  he  pours  in  summer  rains 
from  the  sacred  vessels  wherewith  the  dog's- 
head  of  Anubis,  his  watchman,  servant  and 
comrade,  is  crowned,  the  waters  which  he 
pours  into  the  sacred  stream,  so  that  it  may 
flood  sacred  Egypt.  Now  he  rises  in  the 
cloud  of  dreams. 


THE  TOUR  117 

The  earth  splits  and  Serapis  rises  from 
the  subterranean  Hell.'  He  is  everything, 
even  as  Osiris  is.  He  is  feminine,  Neith,  the 
beginning,  and  masculine,  Ammon,  eternity. 
He  is  what  the  last  will  be.  And  he  cannot 
be  other  than  the  benefactor.  He  makes 
the  dreams  hover  like  butterflies  around  the 
foreheads  of  those  who  believe  in  him.  His 
healing  power  makes  whole  the  sick.  He 
pours  the  secret  of  that  healing  into  the 
minds  of  the  servants  of  sufferers  who  shall 
dream  in  their  masters'  stead.  His  dreams 
advise  what  must  be  done  or  left  undone  to 
achieve  prosperity,  fortune,  consideration, 
happiness  and  love. 

And  he  will  make  Lucius  dream  where  to 
find  a  beloved  woman  who  has  disap- 
peared. .  .  . 

In  the  silence  the  young  Roman  lies, 
covered  with  a  gold  net-work,  like  a  precious 
mummy,  straight  out,  his  arms  beside  his 
body,  his  eyes  shut.  Near  him  lie  all  his 
followers. 


118  THE  TOUR 

The  cloud  of  the  perfumes  is  wafted  over 
their  eyes  reverently  closed  under  the  veils. 

The  sacred  silence  continues,  hour  after 
hour,  unbroken.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  X 

HAD  Lucius  slept?  Had  lie 
dreamed?  Had  the  fragrant 
cloud  drugged  Ms  senses  ?  Had  a 
strange  mystic  power  spread  over  Mm? 
Had  Serapis  descended  upon  Mm?  Had 
the  dreams  surrounded  Mm? 

It  seemed  to  him  that  a  golden  thunder 
roused  him  from  his  heavy,  motionless 
lethargy.  The  gong-strokes  rolled  through 
the  temple  and  far  away  into  the  starry 
night.  Harp-chords  sounded,  a  hymn  was 
entoned.  He  felt  his  veil  wet  with  thick- 
rising  dew.  .  .  . 

Round  and  round  the  terraces,  singing, 
moved  the  long  procession  of  the  priests. 
It  was  still  night.  Everywhere  around 
Lucius  the  dreamers  arose,  drunk  with  sleep 
and  dreaming.  In  the  reflections  of  the 
lamps  and  torches  their  faces  were  ghostly, 
spiritualized  as  after  a  long  prayer,  after 

119 


120  THE  TOUR 

protracted  adoration  and  ecstasy,  wherein 
their  thoughts,  desires  and  souls  had  been 
refined. 

On  the  topmost  terrace,  round  which  the 
whole  city  shimmered  visibly  with  light — 
on  the  one  side  the  nocturnal  blue  of  the  sea, 
on  the  other  the  silvery  forking  of  the  Nile's 
mouths  through  the  Delta — the  learned 
hierogrammats,  the  keepers  of  the  sacred 
writings,  sat  each  on  his  throne.  In  their 
hands  they  held  unrolled  the  sacred  scrolls, 
whose  hieroglyphics  gave  answer  to  all 
things.  Temple-slaves  behind  them  lifted 
high  the  coloured  lanterns.  In  front  of 
them  the  multitudinous  dreamers  thronged. 

Great  was  the  thronging.  The  dreamers 
wanted  to  know  the  interpretation  of  their 
dreams.  But  those  who  had  dreamed  were 
so  many  that  the  priests  did  not  answer 
save  with  a  few  words  full  of  dark  meaning. 

Many,  disappointed,  went  down  the  ter- 
races. Orgy  awaited  them  in  the  taverns 
and  brothels  along  the  canal.  .  .  . 

Lucius  had  risen,  in  the  midst  of  all  his 


THE  TOUR  121 

followers.  He  stood  stiff,  motionless,  veiled 
in  the  gold  net,  like  a  god  entranced. 

" Lucius,"  Thrasyllus  asked,  "my  dear 
child  and  master,  tell  me:  have  you 
dreamed?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Lucius,  in  a  trance. 

"I  too,"  said  Uncle  Catullus.  "It  was  a 
nightmare,  most  unpleasant!  I  had  dined 
too  heavily.  My  stomach  was  overloaded. 
And  I  am  now  shivering  with  this  chilly 
dew.  Egpyt  is  most  interesting,  but  Egypt 
will  positively  be  the  death  of  me ! ' ' 

Caleb  had  approached : 

"My  gracious  lord,"  said  Caleb,  "your 
Sabaean  amulets  have  no  doubt  inspired  you 
with  a  favourable  dream.  You  must  have 
your  dream  expounded.  But  not  by  the 
hierogrammats.  .  .  .  Look,  the  dreamers 
are  crowding  in  front  of  them.  There  is  no 
reaching  them.  You  must  have  your  dream 
expounded  by  a  most  holy  prophet,  by  Am- 
phris,  the  centenarian.  .  .  .  Come  with  me, 
let  me  lead  you  to  him.  ..."  He  took 
Lucius  by  the  hand.  "It  costs  half  a  talent, 


122  THE  TOUR 

no  less/'  said  Caleb.  " Thirty  minae,  my 
lord.  But  then  Amphris  will  expound  your 
dreams  for  you,  Amphris,  the  holy  Amphris. 
The  hierogrammats  charge  ten  or  twenty 
drachmae.  But  they  can  never  tell  it  as  the 
holy  Amphris,  the  prophet  does.  This  is 
where  he  sits  enthroned,  my  lord." 

They  were  standing  in  front  of  a  small 
pyramid,  on  one  of  the  upper  terraces. 
Two  sphinxes  beside  the  narrow  door  lay 
like  mysterious  stone  sentinels.  Temple- 
keepers  guarded  the  gate. 

"The  most  holy  Amphris?"  Caleb  asked. 

" Forty  minae,"  said  one  of  the  priests. 

"Why  not  a  talent  right  away?"  grum- 
bled Caleb. 

"Forty  minae,"  repeated  the  priest. 

Caleb  took  the  gold  coins  from  the  long 
purse  at  his  girdle  and  slipped  them  into 
the  priest's  hand: 

"Enter,  my  lord,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
open  door. 

Lucius  entered.     Seated  on  a  throne  was 


THE  TOUR  123 

an  old  man  who  looked  like  a  god  of  age  and 
wisdom.  Lucius  himself  was  as  beautiful 
as  a  young  gocj.  A  strange  light,  as  of  soft 
moons,  shone  from  blue  globes.  Lucius 
bowed  to  the  ground,  fell  upon  his  knees  and 
kissed  the  floor.  He  remained  in  this  posi- 
tion. 

"Did  Serapis  pass  over  you,  my  son?" 

"Yes,  holy  father." 

"What  did  he  make  you  see,  in  your 
dreams'?" 

"The  woman  whom  I  love." 

The  prophet  had  laid  his  long,  thin,  trans- 
parent hand  on  the  dreamer's  head: 

"But  who  did  not  love  you,"  he  said, 
gently  and  quietly. 

"How  do  you  know,  holy  father?  ...  I 
saw  the  pirates  who  kidnapped  her  .  .  ." 

"But  by  whom  she  was  not  kidnapped 
>? 

"How  do  you  know,  holy  father?" 
"And  by  whom  she  was  not  sold  as  a 
slave." 


124  THE  TOUR 

"  Where  is  she  then,  O  father  f" 

"What  did  Serapis  make  you  see  in  the 
dream?" 

Lucius  sobbed: 

"I  do  not  know,  father.  ...  I  saw  her 
and  .  .  .  those  who  kidnapped  her. " 

"How  many  were  they?" 

"Many." 

"Old  and  young?" 

"No,  they  resembled  one  another  like 
brothers,  like  doubles." 

"Because  they  were  not  many." 

"Not  many?" 

"No." 

"How  many  were  they,  father?" 

"They  were  .  .  .  one." 

"Not  more?" 

"They  were  one,"  repeated  the  prophet. 
"My  son,  your  soul  is  sick.  It  is  sick  with 
sorrow  and  love.  Love  is  strong,  but 
wisdom  is  stronger.  Gather  wisdom,  my 
son.  My  child,  I  can  see  into  your  soul.  I 
see  it  lying  tortured  and  trembling." 

"There  is  no  comfort  if  I  do  not  find  her !" 


THE  TOUE  125 

1  *  There  is  comfort.  Isis  seeking  for 
Osiris  recovered  all  tile  pieces  of  his  body 
except  that  piece  which  fructified  her.  And 
yet  she  found  comfort,  in  the  end." 

"Give  me  comfort,  holy  father." 

"I  am  wisdom,  child,  and  you  are  young. 
Serve  wisdom,  but  honour  love." 

"Father,  why  did  the  pirates  resemble  one 
another?" 

"Because  they  were  one." 

"One  pirate?" 

"One  pirate." 

"Where  is  Ilia,  father?" 

"My  son,  even  my  wisdom  does  not  tell  me 
that  whereof  you  have  not  dreamed.  You 
dreamed  of  many  pirates,  who  resembled 
one  another  like  doubles.  There  was  one 
pirate,  my  child." 

"Who  was  he?" 

"Did  Serapis  conjure  up  his  image  before 
you?" 

"I  no  longer  see  it." 

"Then  go  in  peace.  And  let  love  and 
wisdom  comfort  you." 


126  THE  TOUR 

Lucius  went.  On  the  threshold  of  the 
pyramid  he  met  an  hetaira.  She  glittered 
like  an  idol  in  her  ceremonial  garb,  sewn 
with  jewels,  and  looked  at  him  with  painted 
eyes. 

"It's  Tamyris,  my  lord,"  said  Caleb. 
"She  is  going  to  consult  Amphris.  She  has 
paid  a  talent!  Has  Amphris  interpreted 
your  dream?  The  door-keeper,  who  is  also 
wise,  has  interpreted  mine  for  me!  And 
for  only  five  drachmae." 

"One  pirate!  One  pirate!"  murmured 
Lucius. 

And   he   clenched  his   fists,   impotently. 

The  multitude  streamed  away  along  the 
terraces.  The  barges  glided  back  on  the 
canal,  in  the  night. 

And  constantly,  near  the  pleasure-houses 
and  taverns,  the  vessels  stopped  and  the 
dreamers  alighted. 

Here  mead  flowed  and  foaming  golden 
beer  and  heavy  Mareotis  wines  and  the  in- 
toxicating liqueurs  of  Napata.  Here  the 


THE  TOUR  127 

naked  women,  who  beckoned  with  lotus- 
stalks,  twisted  in  the  dance. 

"Back!"  cried  Lucius.  "Back  to  Alex- 
andria ! ' ' 

The  barge  stopped  at  no  pleasure-houses, 
at  no  taverns.  The  master  sobbed,  his  head 
wrapped  in  his  golden  dreaming-veil. 
There  was  no  music.  Only  the  plaintive 
song  of  the  rowers  made  itself  heard  from 
below. 

Behind,  in  the  east,  the  dawn  paled  in  one 
long,  rosy  line,  above  the  sea  .  .  .  while  the 
festal  lamps  flickered  out  and  died.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XI 

SERAPIS  had  opened  the  floodgates  of 
the  sky. 
The  first  spring  rains  had  already 
descended  in  heavy  torrents ;  the  water-gods 
had  already  poured  the  kindly  streams  from 
their  urns  into  the  swelling  Nile ;  the  river- 
surveyors,  who  had  consulted  the  Nilo- 
meters1  at  every  place,  declared  that  the 
sacred  stream  was  steadily  rising  and  that 
the  maximum  gauge  would  be  reached  that 
summer. 

The  rains  clattered  down  in  white  cur- 
tains of  pouring  waters. 

The  palm-garden  of  the  diversorium  was 
inundated.  Master  Ghizla  made  his  slaves 
dig  little  canals  to  carry  the  water  to  cis- 
terns. 

i  Stone  wells  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  in  which  the  water 
rose  and  fell  as  in  the  river  itself;  marked  columns  indicated 
the  maximum,  minimum  and  middle  gauge.  Inspectors  in- 
formed the  people  in  advance  how  high  the  Nile  would  rise 
and  when  the  stream  would  probably  overflow  its  banks. 

128 


THE  TOUR  129 

There  was  much  joy  and  gladness  at  all 
this  water.  The  air  was  fresh ;  though  mid- 
summer was  approaching,  an  equable  cool- 
ness tempered  the  atmosphere  around  Alex- 
andria; no  river-mist  spread  seeds  of  dis- 
ease; and  the  great  dampness  brought  re- 
lief even  to  this  ground,  which  had  dried  up 
during  the  winter,  and  to  the  parched  air. 

The  travellers  remained  indoors.  After 
the  night  of  dreams  at  Canopus,  Lucius  had 
come  home  in  one  of  his  impotent  fits  of 
fury,  locking  himself  in  his  room  in  despair 
and  refusing  to  see  anybody  whatever. 

Uncle  Catullus  abandoned  himself  to  long 
siestas ;  Thrasyllus  studied  books,  maps  and 
globes. 

In  the  porch  of  the  slaves'  quarters  sat 
Cora.  As  she  was  forbidden  to  sing  or  play, 
she  sat  crouched  with  her  arms  round  her 
knees,  gazing  mournfully  at  the  rains. 
Their  lord's  sickness  spread  melancholy 
among  all  his  household. 

Caleb  squatted  beside  Cora.  Like  her  he 
sat  with  his  arms  around  his  knees  and  he 


130  THE  TOUR 

smiled  with  his  flashing  eyes  and  teeth  and 
said: 

"Cora,  I  love  you  very  much." 

Cora  did  not  move ;  she  merely  answered, 
very  gently: 

"I  am  not  free;  I  belong  to  the  master." 
•  "I  should  like  to  buy  you,  Cora;  and  then 
you  would  be  free." 

Cora  did  not  answer;  the  rain  poured 
down  in  an  endless  grey  sheet;  and  in  the 
palm-garden,  under  an  umbrella,  Master 
Ghizla  drilled  his  dripping  slaves. 

"You  would  be  free,"  Caleb  repeated. 
"You  would  not  be  my  slave,  but  my  wife. 
I  am  rich :  we  are  rich,  Ghizla  and  I.  We  do 
a  very  good  business.  Our  diversorium  is 
the  finest  in  Alexandria.  We  make  a  great 
deal  of  money,  because  all  princely  nobles 
alight  at  our  establishment.  Cora,  you 
would  be  its  mistress.  You  would  have 
slaves,  male  and  female.  I  would  pay  your 
master  whatever  he  asked;  it  would  be  de- 
ducted from  his  bill.  For  business  is  busi- 
ness, you  know.  But  I  could  pay  for  you, 


THE  TOUR  131 

if  necessary,  in  ready  money.  And  then, 
Cora,  when  we  have 'grown  very  rich  .  .  . 
then  we  would  go  back  to  Saba,  to  my  native 
land.  It  is  the  sweetest  and  most  beautiful 
country  in  the  world  ...  to  live  in,  you 
know.  But  there's  no  business  to  be  done 
there.  You  have  to  be  rich  there;  then  it's 
delightful.  When  we  are  rich,  we  will  go 
back  there.  Cora,  shall  I  tell  you  about 
Saba,  about  my  country,  even  if  it  were  only, 
Cora,  to  divert  you,  now  that  it's  raining 
and  you  mustn't  sing*?" 

"I  am  listening,  Caleb." 

"Saba,  dear  Cora,  is  the  mightiest  king- 
dom of  Arabia ;  Saba  is  Arabia  Felix,  Cora. 
Saba  is  the  sweet  land  where  the  balsam- 
trees  grow  and  the  precious  spices  are 
gathered :  myrrh  and  frankincense  and  cin- 
namon. All  the  herbs  and  flowers,  Cora, 
are  scented  in  Saba ;  there  is  no  herb  and  no 
flower  that  is  not  scented.  Under  the  sky, 
which  is  transparent  as  empty  blue  space, 
the  clouds  of  perfume  waft  up  and  rise  to 
the  feet  of  the  gods,  who  always  glance 


132  THE  TOUR 

down  smilingly  upon  my  country,  upon  my 
happy  country.  The  palm-tree  is  scented 
there  and  the  calamus-reed  is  scented  there ; 
the  scented  papyrus  blossoms  there.  No- 
where are  the  flowers  so  big  and  of  so  many 
kinds,  or  the  trees  so  densely-leaved  or  so 
green.  Nowhere  are  the  nights  so  mild  and 
the  days  so  blissful.  The  nights  are  for 
feasting  and  the  days  for  resting.  We 
climb  up  long  ladders  into  the  tall  trees  and 
sleep  in  leafy  nests,  like  birds.  Mariaba  is 
my  town,  the  golden  capital  of  my  sweet 
land.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  fairy-city  in 
your  dreams,  Cora?  That  is  Mariaba. 
There  are  temples  of  chrysolite  with  domes 
of  blue  crystal,  which  imitate  the  firmament. 
The  streets  are  strewn  with  golden  sand. 
Mariaba  is  situated  on  a  hill,  like  the  palace 
of  a  god.  The  king,  Cora,  is  a  descendant 
of  Balkis,  our  great  queen,  who  brought 
Solomon  the  treasures  of  Ophir;  the  king 
lives  at  Mariaba  in  a  palace  walled  with  gold. 
The  walls  of  his  apartments  are  like  blue 
mirrors  and  he  treads  on  carpets  that  are 


THE  TOUR  133 

woven  of  flowers  and  hourly  renewed.  He 
does  not  eat,  but  lives  on  perfumes.  He  is 
sacred,  but  he  may  not  leave  his  palace ;  for 
an  oracle  has  commanded  his  people  to  stone 
him  the  moment  that  he  comes  out.  Every- 
thing in  his  palace  and  in  the  town  is  luxury 
and  delight.  There  is  no  commerce,  there 
is  no  business.  The  Sabaeans  surrender  the 
trade  in  the  precious  products  of  their 
country  to  the  men  of  Syria  and  Mesopo- 
tamia. They  themselves,  Cora,  are  rich  and 
as  gods.  .  .  .  When  we  are  rich  and  you  are 
my  wife  ...  we  shall  be  as  gods  in  Mariaba 
and  you  shall  see  the  king,  behind  a  trans- 
parent hanging  of  gold  glass,  while  he  feeds 
on  those  perfumes.  We  shall  live  in  a  house 
of  alabaster,  which  is  transparent,  but  only 
to  those  inside.  We  shall  have  a  barge  of 
blue  leather  with  red-silk  tassels  and  little 
golden,  tinkling  bells.  .  .  .  When  the  eve- 
ning wind  is  fresh,  we  shall  warm  our  hands 
at  glowing  cinnamon.  I  shall  anoint  your 
body  with  fluid  larimnum,  which  is  the  most 
costly  of  aromatics  and  is  not  exported,  not 


134  THE  TOUR 

even  to  Caesar.  We  shall  have  no  plate  ex- 
cept of  gold  and  an  ivory  couch  inlaid  with 
jasper,  or  perhaps  with  sard.  And  you  will 
go  about  on  an  elephant  with  silvered  hoofs, 
many  gold  bands  round  his  trunk  and,  at 
night,  two  little  lanterns  on  his  tusks,  Cora. 
And  we  shall  be  happier  than  you  can 
imagine  or  than  I  can  tell."  1 

"What  you  are  describing,  Caleb,  is  in- 
deed like  fairyland.  But  I  have  heard  say 
that,  because  of  all  that  fragrance  in  their 
country,  the  Sabaeans  one  and  all  suffer 
from  headache." 

"When  we  suffer  from  headache,  Cora, 
we  burn  asphalt  and  the  hairs  of  a  goat's 
beard.  There  is  no  remedy  to  compare  with 
that  for  headache.  Or  else  we  wear  the 
sacred  amulets.  Wear  one,  Cora :  wear  this 
amulet,  which  I  have  always  worn." 

"No,  Caleb." 

"Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  bewitch 
you?" 

i  Caleb's  description  of  Saba  owes  very  little  to  the  author's 
invention.  Nearly  all  these  details  upon  Arabia  Felix  will 
be  found  set  forth  in  Strabo's  Geography. 


THE  TOUR  135 

"Yes.  I  fear  the  Sabsean  amulets.  It 
is  perhaps  because  of  one  of  them  that  the 
master  dreamed  the  bad  dream  which  has 
made  him  ill  and  sad." 

"Cora,  I  love  you  so  much.  .  .  .  Will  you 
permit  me  to  buy  you  from  your  mas- 
ter?" 

"If  you  bought  me,  O  Caleb,  I  should  be 
a  faithful  slave  and  sing  and  play  the  harp 
to  you.  But  I  should  be  unhappy,  even  if 
I  were  your  wife  and  free  .  .  .  because  I 
should  be  so  far  from  my  master  .  .  ." 

* '  Whom  you  love. ' ' 

Cora  hesitated.    Then  s"he  said: 

"When  I  love,  Caleb  .  .  .  but  as  the 
flower  loves  the  sun,  as  the  moth  loves  the 
star  .  .  .  from  afar  and  from  the  depths  .  .  . 
without  hope. ' ' 

The  rain  poured  down  in  an  endless  grey 
sheet.  In  the  garden,  Master  Ghizla  was 
swearing  at  the  slaves  and  wading,  with 
tucked-up  tunic  and  lean,  hairy  legs,  through 
the  puddles. 

Caleb  rose.    He  said  nothing  and  went 


136  THE  TOUR 

away,  his  head  sunk  in  melancholy.  Then 
he  came  back  and  resumed : 

"You  would  go  hunting  with  me,  Cora, 
and  you  would  sit  in  front  of  me  on  a  Sa- 
baean  stallion,  which  would  be  swift  as  the 
wind,  and  we  should  catch  lion-whelps  in 
nets  and  tame  them  with  palm-wine  and 
they  would  follow  you  about  like  big  cats." 

Cora  only  smiled  and  said  nothing. 

"I  know,  Cora,  why  you  will  not  be 
my  wife.  It  is  not  because  you  love  your 
master.  For,  even  if  your  master  loved  you, 
you  would  be  a  slave.  M y  wife  would  be  a 
free  woman  and  reign  as  queen  in  my  house. 
But  you  will  not  be  my  wife  because  perhaps 
you  know  the  Sabaean  law  which  prescribes 
that  a  married  woman  is  also  the  wife  of  all 
her  husband's  brothers.  But  Ghizla,  dear 
Cora,  would  not  dare  touch  even  the  hem 
of  your  garment." 

"I  did  not  know  that  law,"  said  Cora. 

"There  was  a  king's  daughter  in  our 
country,  Cora.  She  was  dazzlingly  beauti- 
ful and  was  the  wife  of  fifteen  brothers,  who 


THE  TOUR  137 

were  princes.  All  the  fifteen  of  them 
glowed  with  love  for  her.  When  one  of  the 
brothers  wished  to  tarry  in  her  chamber,  he 
set  his  stick  outside  the  door,  as  a  sign. 
Then  the  others  passed  their  way.  .  .  . 
When  she  wearied  of  their  eagerness  to  love 
her,  she  devised  a  stratagem.  She  had 
sticks  made  for  her,  like  the  brothers'. 
When  one  of  the  princes  left  her,  she  placed 
one  of  these  sticks  outside  her  door.  In 
this  way  she  enjoyed  peace.  .  .  .  But  one 
day  all  the  brothers  happened  to  be  in  the 
square  of  the  town  at  the  same  time.  One 
of  them  went  to  visit  her  .  .  .  and  found 
outside  the  door  the  stick  of  a  brother  .  .  . 
whom  he  had  just  left  in  the  town-square! 
Then  he  thought  that  his  wife,  the  wife  of 
the  fifteen  brothers,  was  unfaithful  to 
them  .  .  .  with  a  sixteenth,  a  stranger. 
And  he  sought  his  father  and  told  him  of 
his  suspicions.  But  it  appeared  that  the 
wife  was  innocent.  And  not  only  the  father 
but  the  fifteen  brothers  and  their  spouse 
laughed  at  the  stratagem  and  were 


138  THE  TOUR 

happy.  .  .  .  But  you,  Cora,  would  never 
need  to  put  a  stick  like  mine  outside  your 
door.  For  I  have  only  one  brother,  Ghizla, 
and  he  would  not  dare  to  touch  so  much  as 
the  hem  of  your  garment.*' 

Cora  laughed  and  Caleb  laughed  and  his 
eyes  and  teeth  flashed  and  glittered. 

"In  that  case,  I'll  think  it  over,  Caleb!" 
laughed  Cora.  "In  that  case,  I'll  think  it 
over!" 

"Do  think  it  over,  Cora,"  laughed  Caleb. 
"If  you  are  willing,  I'll  buy  you  from  your 
master.  And  we  shall  have  a  pleasure-boat 
of  cedar- wood,  but  with  sails  like  a  bird's 
wings,  so  that  we  can  either  sail  about  on  the 
sea  or  soar  high  into  the  clouds.  And  then 
on  some  nights  we  could  visit  the  moon, 
where  all  the  people  are  transparent,  like 
shades.  .  .  .  This  is  not  a  fairy-tale,  Cora; 
it's  as  I  tell  you.  We  have  those  magic 
ships  in  our  seas,  in  our  skies.  .  .  .  Think  it 
over,  Cora!  Do  think  it  over!" 

And,  while  Cora  was  still  laughing  in- 
credulously, Caleb  girdled  his  tunic  high  and 


THE  TOUR  139 

waded  barefoot  through  the  puddles  of  the 
palm-garden,  looking  -  round  and  laughing 
as  he  went.  For  Ghizla  had  called  to  him 
to  see  the  canals  which  the  slaves  were  dig- 
ging to  carry  off  the  rain-water  to  the  cis- 
terns. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BUT  Libyan  bearers  carried  a  litter 
into  the  garden. 
The  litter  was  close-curtained  with 
blue  canvas,  against  the  rain. 

And  a  veiled  woman  peeped  through  a  sli t 
in  the  curtains  and  beckoned  to  Caleb ; 

"Is  he  at  home?"  she  asked. 

Caleb  recognized  her,  but  he  answered 
with  an  air  of  innocence  and  asked: 

"Who,  gracious  lady?" 

1 1  He, ' '  repeated  the  woman.  * '  The  young 
Roman,  Publius  Lucius  Sabinus." 

"He  is  at  home,  gracious  lady,"  said 
Caleb.  "But  he  is  unwell.  He  will  not  see 
any  one." 

"If  he  is  at  home,  I  want  to  see  him,"  said 
the  woman. 

And  she  alighted  on  the  stone  steps  of  the 
portico.  She  was  closely  wrapped  in  her 
veils,  but  Caleb  had  recognized  her.  And 
she  offered  Caleb  a  gold  coin,  which  Caleb 

140 


THE  TOUR  141 

did  not  refuse,  because  business  was  business 
and  a  well-invested  stater  brought  him  still 
a  little  nearer  to  his  native  land,  for  which 
he  was  longing. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  can  let  you  in," 
said  Caleb,  hesitatingly. 

The  woman  produced  a  second  piece  of 
gold.  It  disappeared  in  Caleb's  girdle  as 
though  by  witchcraft. 

" Where  is  he  staying?"  she  asked. 

"In  the  princes'  building,  of  course,"  said 
Caleb,  proudly.  "Where  his  little  black 
slave  is  squatting." 

The  veiled  woman  went  up  to  Tarrar, 
squatting  on  a  mat  outside  a  door. 

' '  I  want  to  see  him, ' '  said  the  woman.  ' '  I 
want  to  speak  to  him.  Take  me  to  him. " 

"The  master  is  asleep,"  said  Tarrar. 

"Wake  him." 

"The  master  is  sick,"  said  Tarrar. 

"Tell  him  that  I  can  cure  him." 

"I  dare  not,"  said  Tarrar.  "He  would 
be  angry.  It  would  be  against  his  orders. 
He  is  accustomed  to  have  us  obey  him." 


142  THE  TOUR 

" Announce  me." 

"No,"  said  Tarrar. 

"You're  a  little  monkey,"  said  the  woman. 

And  she  opened  the  door  and  lifted  a  cur- 
tain. 

Tarrar  and  Caleb,  dismayed,  tried  to  stop 
her: 

"She's  inside!"  said  Caleb. 

"The  master  will  beat  me!"  said  Tarrar, 
shivering.  "That  impudent  wench!" 

But  Caleb,  with  his  finger  to  his  mouth, 
told  him  to  be  silent  .  .  .  and  listened  at  the 
door. 

The  veiled  woman  stood  in  Lucius'  room. 
Lucius  lay  on  a  couch  in  mournful  medita- 
tion. He  opened  his  eyes  wide  with  amaze- 
ment. 

"I  am  Tamyris,"  said  the  woman. 
"Lucius,  I  am  Tamyris.  I  am  famed  for 
my  beauty ;  and  I  have  kept  kings  waiting  on 
the  threshold  of  my  villa  on  Lake  Mareotis 
merely  out  of  caprice.  I  once  kissed  a  negro 
slave  while  the  King  of  Pontus  was  waiting ; 
and,  when  my  black  lover  held  me  in  his 


THE  TOUR  143 

arms,  I  called  the  king  in  ...  and  then 
showed  him  the  door  and  drove  him  away." 

"That's  not  true,"  said  Lucius. 

Tamyris  opened  her  veils  and  laughed : 

"No,  it's  not  true,"  she  said.  "But  what 
is  true  is  this,  that  I  have  been  burning  with 
love  for  you  since  the  day  when  I  saw  you, 
beautiful  as  a  god,  on  the  threshold  of  Am- 
phris'  pyramid.  Lucius,  I  want  to  be  your 
slave.  I  want  to  serve  and  love  you.  I 
will  cure  you  and  make  you  laugh.  I  shall 
make  you  forget  all  your  sorrow.  Lucius, 
I  have  served  the  sacred  goddess  Aphrodite 
since  I  was  a  child  of  six.  She  has  taught 
me,  through  oracles  and  dreams,  the  utter 
secret  of  her  science,  the  secret  of  her 
highest  voluptuousness,  which  she  herself 
did  not  know  until  she  loved  Adonis. 
Lucius,  if  you  will  love  me,  I  shall  be  your 
slave  and  reveal  the  secret  of  Adonis  to 
you." 

"Go  away,"  said  Lucius. 

"Lucius,"  said  Tamyris,  "I  have  never 
asked  a  man  to  love  me.  But  my  days,  since 


144  THE  TOUR 

I  looked  into  the  mournful  depths  of  your 
eyes,  have  been  like  withered  gardens  and 
my  nights  like  scorched  sands.  I  suffer  and 
I  am  ill.  I  have  an  everlasting  thirst  here, 
in  my  throat,  despite  draughts  cooled  with 
snow  and  fruit  steeped  in  silphium.  See, 
my  hands  shake  as  though  I  were  in  a  fever. 
See,  Lucius,  how  my  hands  shake.  They 
want  to  fondle  you,  to  fondle  your  limbs 
and  .  .  ." 

"Go  away,"  said  Lucius. 

"Lucius,  I  long  to  be  your  slave.  I,  Ta- 
myris,  the  famous  hetaira,  who  possess 
treasures,  as  you  do,  and  the  largest  beryl 
discovered  in  Ethiopia,  I  long  to  be  your 
slave  and  I  long  to  shake  your  pillows  high 
and  soft  and  to  lave  your  feet  in  nard  and  to 
dry  them  with  my  kisses,  kiss  after  kiss  until 
they  are  dry." 

Lucius  struck  a  hard  blow  on  the  gong. 
Caleb  and  Tarrar  appeared. 

"Call  the  guards,"  Lucius  commanded. 
"And  drag  this  woman  away  if  she  does  not 
go." 


. . 


THE  TOUR  145 

;I  am  going,"  said  Tamyris.  "But, 
when  I  am  dead,  O  Lucius,  burnt  out  with 
love,  I  shall  haunt  you  and  my  ghost  will 
twine  around  you,  without  your  being  able 
to  prevent  it,  and  I  shall  suck  your  soul  from 
your  lips  .  .  .  until  I  have  you  inside 
me  .  .  .  inside  me !" 

"Gracious  lady,"  said  Caleb,  obse- 
quiously, "the  rain  has  ceased  and  your 
litter  waits." 

"I  am  going,"  said  Tamyris.  "The 
Prince  of  Numidia  expects  me.  He  has 
come  with  twenty  swimming  elephants, 
along  the  sea  and  straight  across  the  lake,  to 
love  me.  I  am  giving  an  orgy  to-night,  just 
to  amuse  him.  Lucius,  if  you  call  on  me 
to-night,  we  will  tie  up  the  Prince  of  Nu- 
midia and  tickle  the  soles  of  his  feet  till  he 
dies  of  laughing.  Will  you  come  ? ' ' 

"You  lie,"  said  Lucius.  "There  is  no 
prince  come  to  see  you  and  there  are  no 
swimming  elephants.  You  weary  me.  Go 
away,  or  I  shall  have  you  scourged  from  my 
presence  with  long  whips." 


146  THE  TOUR 

"I  am  going,"  said  Tamyris.  "But,  at 
a  moment  when  you  are  not  thinking  of  it, 
I  shall  bewitch  you.  Then  you,  without 
knowing  it,  will  drink  a  philtre  which  I  have 
prepared  for  you ;  and  you  will  come  to  me 
and  I  shall  embrace  you.  And  in  my  em- 
brace you  shall  know  what  otherwise  would 
have  always  remained  a  secret  to  you.  I 
am  going." 

That  night  Lucius  went  to  Tamyris. 
But  he  returned,  the  next  morning,  dis- 
illusionized and  disappointed. 


M 


CHAPTER  XIII 

64  "T%  /fY  son,"  said  old  Thrasyllus,  sit- 
ting beside  his  couch,  "do  you 
intend  always  to  cherish  your  ill- 
ness and  longing,  like  a  serpent  that  devours 
you,  bone  and  flesh  ?  The  sibyl  of  Rhacotis 
merely  guessed  your  own  thoughts.  The 
holy  Ampris  could  explain  nothing  more 
than  that  many,  who  resemble  one  another, 
mean  only  one  in  the  dream.  After  that, 
what  could  your  credulity  imagine  that  *a 
crafty  hetaira  would  make  you  guess  in  her 
embrace?  The  name  of  that  one  man? 
The  name  of  the  pirate?  The  place  where 
he  is  hiding  Ilia?  .  .  .  One  pirate?  .  .  . 
Who  could  have  stolen  her?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Lucius,  wearily. 

"My  poor,  sick  boy,"  said  the  tutor,  "no 
one  knows  and  no  one  will  ever  know.  She 
has  disappeared.  If  she  has  not  been  kid- 
napped by  pirates,  she  is  drowned.  Did  you 
not  visit  the  slave-markets  in  Rome  on  pur- 

147 


148  THE  TOUR 

pose  to  find  her?  Have  you  not  done  the 
same  thing  here,  in  Alexandria  ?  She  is  not 
to  be  found.  Forget  her,  my  son.  Try  to 
get  better.  If  no  other  woman  can  cure  you, 
let  some  other  power  than  love  cure  you. 
Amphris  mentioned  wisdom.  There  is  wis- 
dom. Seek  it  here,  in  the  land  of  wisdom. 
This  city,  my  son,  is  a  sinful  city,  though  it 
is  fair  to  look  upon.  This  city  is  as  Ta- 
myris  herself:  it  is  a  wanton  among  cities. 
There  is  no  more  wisdom  in  this  city,  not- 
withstanding the  Museum,  notwithstanding 
the  Serapeum,  notwithstanding  the  dreams 
of  Canopus,  which  die  away  in  orgy.  In 
this  city  I  have  met  none  save  merchants, 
usurers  and  venal  women.  This  magnifi- 
cent city  is  a  venal  city.  Even  the  philoso- 
phers here  are  avaricious  and  venal.  Even 
the  prophets  demand  a  talent  for  their  di- 
vinations. The  power  of  money  holds  sway 
here  and  no  longer  wisdom.  Let  us  go 
farther.  There  is  wisdom  left  in  Egypt. 
And  in  the  wisdom  which  we  shall  find  you 
will  be  cured.  Listen,  my  son :  there  is  the 


THE  TOUR  149 

sacred  word  of  the  Kabbala,  which  Moses 
himself  received  from  the  godhead  on  Mount 
Sinai.  That  word  has  never  been  graven 
on  tables  of  stone,  but  Moses  whispered  it  to 
his  sons  and  those  sons  to  theirs.  It  is  the 
key  to  happiness.  He  who  utters  it  has  the 
power  to  avoid  suffering  and  to  know  all  that 
can  be  known  on  earth.  I  have  sought  for 
it,  in  the  Museum,  in  the  Serapeum,  here  and 
at  Canopus.  While  you  lay  sorrowing  on 
your  couch,  my  son,  I  have  held  converse 
with  priests  and  with  philosophers,  with 
prophets.  I  am  persuaded  that  I  shall  not 
find  the  word  in  Alexandria.'7 

"But  where  will  you  find  it,  Thrasyllus?" 

The  tutor  stared  before  him : 

"Perhaps  farther  on,"  he  said.  "Per- 
haps at  Memphis.  Let  us  go  to  Memphis. 
If  I  do  not  find  the  word  at  Memphis,  I  shall 
1'ook  for  it  farther  still.  Let  us  sail  up  the 
Nile,  to  Thebes,  to  Ethiopia.  Let  us  go  to 
the  pillars  of  Sesbstris.  Something  tells  me 
that  we  shall  find  it  ...  and  that  you  will 
be  cured,  my  son.  But  let  us  go." 


150  THE  TOUR 

Lucius  approved  and  the  departure  was 
decided.  Thereupon  Master  Ghizla  and 
Caleb  had  a  long  talk  on  "business,"  after 
which  Caleb  asked  for  an  interview  with 
Lucius,  which  was  granted  and  at  which 
Uncle  Catullus  and  Thrasyllus  were  present. 

" Noble  lords,"  Caleb  began,  "I  should 
like  to  speak  to  you  in  your  own  interest. 
The  question,  noble  lords,  is  this:  I  under- 
stand from  the  most  learned  Master  Thra- 
syllus that  there  is  a  plan  on  foot  to  leave 
Alexandria  and  to  travel  over  Memphis  to 
Ethiopia,  as  far  as  the  pillars  of  Sesostris. 
That  will  certainly  be  a  fine  journey ;  and  all 
great  lords  take  that  road.  But  permit  me, 
your  servant,  to  give  you  a  piece  of  advice, 
in  your  own  interest,  noble  lords,  in  your 
own  interest.  My  advice  is  this :  hire  from 
me  and  my  brother  Ghizla  a  comfortable  and 
spacious  Nile  barge,  a  thalamegus,  not  only 
to  ascend  the  Nile  in,  but  also  to  live  in,  so 
far  as  possible,  because — spoken  without 
slander,  noble  lords,  spoken  without  slander ! 
— the  diversoria  which  you  will  find  at  Her- 


THE  TOUB  151 

mopolis,  at  Leontopolis,  ay,  even  at  Memphis 
and  Thebes  are  .  .  .  bad,  are  all  ~bad,  not  to 
be  compared  with  our  far-famed  Hermes 
House,  O  my  honoured  benefactors!  No, 
they  are  unclean  hovels,  standing  on  the 
edges  of  marshes,  without  any  modern  con- 
veniences; and,  though  you  have  your  own 
cook,  you  would  not  even  find  any  unpolluted 
wells  there,  not  to  speak  of  wine,  and  would 
never  again  have  a  good  meal,  O  my  Lord 
Catullus!  Therefore,  O  my  patrons,  hire 
our  Nile  thalamegus,  in  which  you  can  live 
with  a  small  following,  with  a  few  slaves; 
leave  the  other  slaves  here,  with  the  greater 
part  of  your  splendid  equipment ;  and  allow 
me — if  you  have  been  satisfied,  O  my  Lord 
Lucius,  with  my  conduct  at  Alexandria  and 
Canopus — to  be  your  guide,  at  the  head  of 
your  own  escort,  and  to  remove  all  difficult- 
ies from  your  path.  I  know  the  whole  of 
Egypt !  I  have  already  conducted  numbers 
of  noble  lords,  ay,  to  the  sources  of  the  Nile, 
to  those  most  mysterious  sources !  We  will 
take  tents  with  us  and  hire  camels,  when 


152  THE  TOUR 

necessary;  but  take  my  advice  .  .  .  and 
never  alight  at  any  other  Egyptian  diver- 
soria,  except  our  Hermes  House,  for  they  are 
all  bad,  bad,  bad  .  .  .  indescribably  bad,  O 
my  noble  lords!" 

"Caleb,"  said  Lucius,  "I  was  just  about  to 
propose  to  you  what  you  are  proposing  to 
me,  that  you  should  be  our  guide  to  the 
pillars  of  Sesostris  and  hire  me  a  barge  to 
sail  up  the  Nile." 

"O  my  lords!"  cried  Caleb,  overjoyed  and 
obviously  relieved.  "How  glad  I  am  of 
that!  For  now  I  am  convinced  that  you 
will  be  comfortable  and  travel  pleasantly 
and  that  you,  O  my  Lord  Catullus,  will  dine 
as  you  have  been  wont  to  do  here  .  .  . 
especially  as  we  shall  not  forget  to  take  our 
own  wines  on  board,  the  purple  Mareotis 
wine,  thick  as  ink,  and  the  topaz-yellow 
liqueur  of  Napata." 

"But  is  the  last  really  necessary,  Caleb?" 
asked  Uncle  Catullus,  mischievously. 
"After  all,  we  are  going  to  Ethiopia!" 

"And  on  the  way,  my  lord?    Before  we 


THE  TOUR  153 

reach  Ethiopia?  And  above  all  let  me  also 
explain  that  the  Ethiopian  liqueurs  .  .  . 
must  first  descend  the  Nile,  to  acquire  the 
perfume  and  the  rich  flavour  which  they  do 
not  possess  in  Ethiopia  itself." 

"If  only  they  don't  lose  that  perfume, 
Caleb,  when  they  ascend  the  Nile  again!" 
said  Uncle  Catullus,  jestingly. 

"I  shall  see  to  that,  my  lord,"  said  Caleb, 
who  saw  through  Uncle  Catullus  quite  as 
plainly  as  Uncle  Catullus  saw  through 
Caleb.  "I'll  see  to  that.  You  just  leave  it 
to  me." 

"We  are  leaving  everything  to  you,  Caleb. 
Get  the  barge  ready  for  to-morrow,"  said 
Lucius. 

"Then  we  shall  go  up  the  Nile  next  day, 
my  lord,"  said  Caleb,  happy  and  delighted. 

And  he  retired  with  salaam  after  salaam. 

And  Master  Ghizla,  in  the  palm-garden, 
pretending  to  be  busy  with  the  little  canal, 
but  in  reality  full  of  eagerness  to  know  the 
result  of  Caleb's  advice,  whispered: 

"I  say!  .  .  .  Brother!  .  .  ." 


154  THE  TOUR 

"Yes?" 

"Well,  Caleb,  well?"  asked  GMzla, 
anxiously  and  looking  a  little  pale. 

"They're  hiring  the  thalamegus  .  .  . 
they're  alighting  at  no  other  diver- 
sorium  .  .  .  they're  sleeping  in  our  tents, 
they'll  travel  with  our  camels  and  ..." 

"Well,  Caleb,  and  what  else?"  asked 
Ghizla,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"They're  drinking  our  wines  ...  all  the 
way  to  Napata!" 

"Where  you'll  pretend  to  lay  in  a  fresh 
stock  of  liqueurs'?" 

"You  leave  that  to  me,  Brother  Ghizla, 
you  just  leave  it  to  me !" 

"May  the  gods  bless  you,  Brother  Caleb; 
may  Thoth,  Hermes  and  Serapis  bless  you ! 
Quick,  let  us  look  in  the  cellars  if  we  have 
enough  in  store!" 

There  came  a  sudden  shower,  as  though 
poured  from  an  urn  in  the  sky  by  an  in- 
visible water-god;  and  the  two  brothers, 
with  their  garments  tucked  up,  rushed  bare- 


THE  TOUR  155 

legged  through  the  puddles  of  their  palm- 
garden  to  their  wine-cellars,  which  lay  warm 
as  stone  cupolas  in  the  sun,  or  else  were  kept 
cool  with  double  walls  filled  with  snow. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  the  still  and  silent  night,  the  Delta  lay 
flooded  by  the  kindly  waters  of  the 
sacred  river.  From  the  Canopic  to  the 
Sebennytic  mouth,  from  the  Phatmetic 
along  the  Mendesian  to  the  Pelusiac  mouth, 
the  Delta  lay  flooded :  one  still  and  silent  sea 
in  the  night,  a  wide,  silver  sheet  of  water 
without  a  ripple,  stretching  farther  than  the 
eye  could  reach  in  the  soft-falling  sheen  of 
the  full  moon.  Between  the  river-mouths 
the  canals  lay  in  streaks  of  silver  light,  full 
of  water  to  their  edges.  Past  the  blossom- 
ing reeds,  past  the  blossoming  lotuses  and 
water-lilies,  the  great  barge  glided  up  the 
stream  as  in  a  vision. 

There  was  not  a  sound  amid  the  silence 
but  the  dripping  from  the  oars. 

The  night  was  muffled,  wide  and  immense. 
It  was  as  though  the  moon,  up  above,  had 
inundated  the  sky,  even  as  the  flood  the 

156 


THE  TOUR  157 

sacred  land  below.  It  was  as  though  the 
flood  of  moonshine  were  drenching  the 
sacred  sky  also  with  a  calm,  unrippled  sea, 
but  a  sea  of  light.  The  night  was  like  a 
noiseless,  silvery  day;  the  night  was  like  a 
shadow  of  the  day.  In  that  inundation  of 
the  light  of  heaven,  the  stars  paled,  in- 
numerous,  like  a  silvery  powder  sprinkled 
by  the  moonshine.  There  lay  the  lake  of 
Butos,  wide  and  mystic  and  gleaming. 
Island  emerged  after  island.  Palms  stood 
in  clusters,  stately,  motionless  and  delicate. 
A  shrine  appeared  and  vanished  as  the 
dream-barge  glided  down  a  bend  of  the 
canal.  Country-mansions  stood  peacefully 
linked  together.  There  were  taller  dykes 
and  patches  of  golden,  shadowy  wheat. 
Sheaves  of  corn  looked  like  the  images  of 
gods,  reverence-compelling,  ranged  in  order 
beside  one  another,  against  the  wall  of  a 
barn.  A  peculiar  scent  was  wafted  by,  a 
fresh  aroma  as  of  always  moist  flowers. 

The  outline  of  a  village  came  into  view. 
And  hamlet  joined  itself  to  hamlet,  with 


158  THE  TOUR 

shrines  and  mansions  in  between.  Sud- 
denly, farther  up,  in  the  sea  of  glory,  in  the 
sea  of  light,  huge  needles  rose  on  high  from 
the  ground,  with  quivering  lines,  and  became 
lost  in  the  mist  of  light. 

Thrasyllus  standing  by  Cora  on  the  fore- 
castle pointed: 

' 'The  obelisks  of  Sais." 

She  turned,  with  a  start,  and  was  silent. 
The  barge  that  afternoon  had  left  Naucratis 
along  the  canals  which  seam  the  Saitic 
nome,  or  province.  They  were  now  nearing 
the  capital,  Sais,  the  capital  of  all  Lower 
Egypt.  They  already  saw  the  Anubis  Ave- 
nue. And  suddenly,  at  a  bend,  between  very 
tall  reeds  blossoming  with  tassels  and  bow- 
ing before  the  barge,  Thrasyllus  pointed : 

1  'The  temple  of  Isis-Neith." 

There  were  sphinxes:  they  seemed  to  lift 
their  basalt  heads  in  prayer  to  the  moon  and 
the  sky.  Lamps  and  lights  twinkled  like 
stars.  The  thalamegus  hove  to ;  orders  rang 
out ;  the  sailors  moored  the  vessel. 


THE  TOUR  159 

"The  temple  of  Isis-Neith,"  Thrasyllus 
repeated  to  Lucius,  who  approached  with 
Catullus  and  Caleb. 

They  were  all  arrayed  in  long,  white-linen 
robes.  Cora  also  was  similarly  clad,  in  a 
long,  white,  close-fitting  linen-robe.  She 
wore  a  wreath  of  wheat-ears  and  lotus- 
flowers  at  her  temples.  For  it  was  the  Night 
of  the  Glowing  Lights,  the  Feast  of  the 
Burning  Lamps. 

"Nemu-Pha  is  waiting  for  me  in  the 
temple/'  said  Thrasyllus.  "I  wrote  to  him 
and  he  has  consented  to  receive  me.  He  is 
the  high-priest  of  Isis;  and  to-night  he  re- 
ceives those  who  come  to  consult  him.  I 
thought,  Lucius,  of  going  alone.  Nemu- 
Pha  is  one  of  the  holiest  prophets  in  Egypt. 
One  word  from  him  can  perhaps  enable  me 
to  guess  much.  But,  if  you  accompany  me, 
with  only  a  single  thought  in  your  sick  brain, 
you  would  break  the  mystic  thread  which 
might  be  woven  between  the  hight-priest's 
spirit  and  mine.  Let  me  go  alone.  I  have 


160  THE  TOUR 

no  other  care  than  your  happiness  .  .  . 
even  though  we  are  not  agreed  on  the  form 
which  it  should  take." 

"Go,  Thrasyllus,"  said  Lucius. 

"I  don't  think  that  I  shall  go  on  shore," 
said  Uncle  Catullus.  "The  Night  of  the 
Glowing  Lights  and  the  Feast  of  the  Burn- 
ing Lamps  leave  me  cold.  It  is  colourless 
and  cheerless ;  it  will  be  a  spectral  orgy.  I 
am  too  old  and  fat,  Lucius,  for  a  spectral 
orgy.  Go  on  shore  alone  and  amuse  your- 
self as  you  may." 

Lucius  assembled  his  slaves,  male  and 
female.  They  were  all  in  long,  white  robes, 
the  women  wreathed  with  ears  of  wheat  and 
lotus-flowers. 

"You  are  all  free  to-night,"  said  Lucius. 
"You  have  a  night  of  liberty.  Until  sunrise 
you  belong  to  yourselves.  Go  your  ways 
and  do  whatever  you  please." 

Rufus  handed  each  a  small  sum  of  money. 
The  slaves  bowed  low  and  disappeared,  be- 
tween the  palms,  in  the  direction  of  the 
moonlit,  twinkling  city. 


THE  TOUR  161 

Only  a  guard  of  sailors  kept  watch  on  the 
barge.  Uncle  Catullus 'retired  to  his  cabin. 
Tarrar  also  did  not  wish  to  go  on  shore  and 
remained  to  sleep  at  his  master's  threshold. 
The  Feast  of  Isis  made  many  shudder  who 
were  not  accustomed  from  their  youth  to  its 
shivery  mysticism. 

Thrasyllus  had  gone.  Lucius  also  went 
on  shore.  He  saw  Cora  hestitating  under 
the  palm-trees  while  the  other  women  slaves 
had  already  gone  gaily  to  enjoy  their  night 
of  liberty: 

"Why  don't  you  join  your  companions, 
Cora?"  asked  Lucius. 

"My  lord,"  Cora  replied,  "if  you  permit 
me,  I  would  rather  stay  here." 

"You  are  free  to-night." 

"What  should  I  do  with  liberty,  my 
lord?" 

"You  can  do  what  you  please,  go  to  the 
temple  and  see  the  veiled  Isis  .  .  .  and 
enjoy  yourself  as  and  with  whom  you 
choose." 

She  cast  down  her  eyes  and  blushed. 


162  THE  TOUR 

" There  is  a  general  holiday  to-night," 
continued  Lucius,  "for  slaves  male  and 
female." 

She  folded  her  hands  as  though  in  prayer : 

"My  lord,"  she  begged,  "suffer  me  to  re- 
main here,  near  the  barge.  I  am  afraid  of 
liberty  and  of  the  big  city." 

"Do  as  you  please,"  said  Lucius. 

He  went  on  alone.  Loneliness  sent  a 
shiver  through  him  because  of  this  strange 
night  which  was  like  day.  A  white  melan- 
choly emanated  from  his  soul.  He  felt  aim- 
less. He  would  have  preferred  to  accom- 
pany Thrasyllus.  He  would  not  have  mind- 
ed going  to  bed.  He  had  almost  invited 
Cora  to  accompany  him,  but  did  not  think  it 
suited  to  his  dignity. 

He  went  alone,  in  his  white  raiment,  in  the 
bountiful  moonlight.  How  strange  the 
night  was,  all  white  and  trembling.  He  ap- 
proached the  town.  There  was  nothing  but 
the  monotonous  rattle  of  the  sistra  carried 
by  the  long-robed  pilgrims  who  walked  in 
procession  io  the  temple.  All  the  houses 


THE  TOUR  163 

along  the  road  were  lit  with  the  lamps  burn- 
ing at  the  doors  and  windows,  vessels  full  of 
oil  with  burning  wicks.  It  was  a  strange 
pale-yellow  twinkling  in  the  moonshine.  It 
was  like  a  funeral  ceremony.  For  it  com- 
memorated the  night  on  which  Isis  had  col- 
lected the  scattered  limbs  of  her  brother  and 
husband  Osiris,  murdered  and  quartered  by 
Typhon  and  scattered  all  over  Egypt. 

The  procession  streamed  to  the  temple. 
Along  the  road,  the  hierodules,  the 
priestesses,  danced  to  a  monotonous  chant, 
hand  in  hand,  in  a  long  row.  They  threw  a 
laugh  to  the  numberless  strangers  who  had 
come  to  Sais,  for  that  night.  The  strangers 

* 

laughed  back  and  picked  out  the  priestesses ; 
and  they  withdrew  together,  first  to  the  tem- 
ple, then  farther  away. 

Three  hierodules  laughed  to  Lucius. 
They  danced  round  him.  He  did  not  wish 
to  seem  uncivil;  also  he  felt  very  forlorn. 
He  just  laughed  back,  wearily  and  kindly. 

"Shall  we  come  with  you?"  asked  one  of 
the  hierodules. 


164  THE  TOUR 

"As  you  please,"  said  Lucius.  "Are  you 
going  to  the  temple  ?" 

"If  you  wish." 

They  walked  in  front  of  him  and  beside 
him.  They  wore  white,  -close-fitting  robes, 
with  lotus-flowers  and  ears  of  wheat  in  their 
hair.  They  were  gentle  and  civil  and  obli- 
ging and  young,  like  three  young  children. 

The  white  multitude  streamed  along  the 
streets.  The  obelisks  of  the  dromos  came 
into  view.  The  temple  rose  gigantic  and 
mysterious,  with  numbers  of  square  build- 
ings and  terraces  stacked  one  above  the 
other.  There  were  rows  of  gigantic  pylons, 
which  lost  themselves  in  the  moonlit  night. 
The  monotonous  melody  of  the  sistra  rattled 
on  every  side;  on  every  side  the  lamps 
twinkled.  Lucius  felt  within  him  an  im- 
measurable melancholy,  because  of  life  and 
because  of  death,  because  of  people  and  be- 
cause of  himself. 

The  hierodules  led  the  way.  They  were 
kind  and  courteous,  glad  at  meeting  this 
amiable  stranger,  to  whom  they  would  be 


THE  TOUR  165 

obliging,  as  their  duty  prescribed  that  night. 

They  entered  the  pronaos  and  secos.  In 
the  immensity  of  the  pillared  spaces  the 
countless  sistra  rattled  eerily,  producing  a 
vibration  which  was  no  longer  music :  it  was 
as  though  the  pylons  and  pillars  themselves 
were  rattling,  as  though  the  very  earth  were 
rattling. 

Suddenly  Lucius  felt  a  cold  shiver  pass 
through  him.  In  the  holy  of  holies  rose  the 
veiled  Isis.  It  was  an  immense  statue,  five 
fathoms  high  and  surrounded  entirely  with 
a  silvery  film,  seamed  with  hieroglyphics. 
Above  the  image,  on  the  architrave,  was 
written : 

I  AM  WHO  HAVE  BEEN, 

WHO  AM 

AND  WHO  SHALL  BE ; 
AND  NO  ONE  HAS  LIFTED  MY  VEIL. 

Around  the  image  shone  thousands  of 
burning  vessels,  of  glowing  lamps.  There 
was  a  mist  of  light  and  a  smoke  of  incense. 
And  round  about  the  image  there  was  the 
incessant  dance  of  the  hierodules  and  the 


166  THE  TOUR 

worship  of  the  sacrificing  priests,  all  the 
night  through.  And  ever,  like  an  obsession, 
there  was  the  rattle  of  -the  sistra,  as  though 
the  whole,  immense  temple  were  rattling 

Lucius,  led  by  the  three  women,  offered  his 
sacrifice  at  one  of  the  numberless  altars. 
The  priest  pronounced  the  sacred  words  and 
Lucius  poured  forth  the  libation  and  paid 
his  gold  coin. 

He  felt  desperately  unhappy. 

"Sir,"  asked  one  of  the  women,  "do  you 
wish  us  all  three  to  accompany  you  to  one  of 
the  temple-chambers?  Or  would  you  have 
two  of  us  go  away?" 

He  laughed  softly  at  their  polite  manners, 
like  those  of  young  and  well-brought-up 
children.  He  gave  a  melancholy  glance. 

"I  am  unwell,  I  am  very  unwell,"  he  said. 
"I  think  I  will  go  home  alone." 

"Your  eyes  are  full  of  pain,  sir,"  said  one 
of  the  hierodules. 

And  one  of  the  others  said: 

"Cannot  we  comfort  you  and  cure  you?" 


THE  TOUR  167 

Lucius  shook  his  head. 

"Then  let  us  lead  you  home,"  said  the 
third. 

They  left  the  temple. 

"I  live  on  the  river,"  said  Lucius.  "I 
came  in  a  thalamegus." 

They  walked  beside  him,  like  shades. 
When  they  reached  the  barge,  Lucius  said: 

"I  am  at  home  here.  Let  me  thank  you 
and  pay  you.  May  holy  Isis  protect  you ! ' ' 

"May  holy  Isis  cure  you,  sir!"  said  the 
hierodules. 

He  gave  them  a  gold  coin  apiece.  They 
disappeared  in  the  night,  like  shades.  But 
under  the  palm-trees  was  another  shade.  It 
was  Cora. 

"I  am  not  well,"  said  Lucius.  "I  came 
back." 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  to  bed,  my  lord?" 
asked  Cora. 

"No,  I  should  not  be  able  to  sleep,"  re- 
plied Lucius.  "This  night  is  strange  and 
unreal.  I  will  lie  here  under  the  trees." 


168  THE  TOUR 

"I  will  leave  you,  my  lord. " 

"No,  stay/'  he  said.  "I  am  ill  and  I  feel 
lonely.  Stay." 

"  Suffer  me  to  fetch  you  a  cloak  and  a  pil- 
low, my  lord." 

"I  thank  you." 

She  disappeared  into  the  barge  and  re- 
turned with  the  pillow  and  cloak.  She  cov- 
ered him  up  and  pushed  the  pillow  under  his 
head. 

"The  night  is  strange,"  he  repeated,  "and 
unreal.  It  is  like  a  white  day.  There  is  no 
dew  falling.  I  shall  remain  here  till  Thra- 
syllus  comes.  But  do  you  stay.  I  feel  ill 
and  lonely." 

"What  can  I  do,  my  lord!  I  may  not 
sing:  only  the  sistrum  may  sound  to-night." 

"Dance  to  me;  move  in  the  moonlight. 
Can  you  dance  without  accompaniment?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  Cora. 

He  lay  under  the  palms.  Cora  danced  in 
the  open  moonlight,  near  the  tall  river-reeds. 
She  twisted  and  turned  like  a  white  water- 
nymph  that  had  risen  from  the  stream.  She 


THE  TOUR  169 

stood  still  in  attitudes  of  rapture.  She 
adored  Isis,  her  hands  uplifted  to  the  moon. 
She  was  very  lithe  and  slender,  very  white, 
with  white  flowers  and  ears  of  wheat  around 
her  temples. 

He  lay  without  moving,  watching  her. 
And  he  thought  his  one  thought :  where  could 
Ilia  be  ?  For  there  had  not  been  more  than 
one  pirate.  .  .  . 

When,  late  in  the  night,  Thrasyllus  re- 
turned, he  found  Lucius  asleep  under  the 
palms  with  Cora  keeping  vigil  beside  him. 

"My  lord  is  asleep,"  said  Cora.  And  she 
asked,  ' '  Tell  me,  Thrasyllus :  what  did  Ne- 
mu-Pha  say?" 

The  old  tutor  looked  gloomy.  And  he 
said: 

"The  wise  ages  have  been  drowned  in  the 
night  of  time.  Egypt  is  Egypt  no  longer. 
Sais  is  Sais  no  longer.  If  wisdom  still  tar- 
ries here  and  is  still  to  be  found,  I  shall  find 
it  not  by  the  sea,  not  in  the  Delta.  This  is 
the  granary  and  the  emporium  of  the  world 
.  .  .  but  nothing  more.  Great  Isis  hides  be- 


170  THE  TOUR 

hind  her  veil  the  worthlessness  and  venality 
of  her  priests,  whose  last  remaining  pride  is 
to  sell  in  great  secrecy  the  word,  'Be  a  god 
unto  yourself.'  .  .  .  That  word  does  not 
satisfy  me.  But  there  is  Memphis,  there  is 
Thebes.  I  still  have  hope,  Cora  .  .  .  that  I 
shall  find  the  divine  word  which  will  cure 
him." 

The  old  man  stepped  on  board  the  barge. 
The  night  waned ;  yonder,  in  Sais,  the  twin- 
kling of  the  Burning  Lamps  died  away. 

In  the  east,  the  light  broke  through,  as 
through  a  bursting  sluice.  Long,  rosy 
islands  seemed  to  drift  in  an  ocean  of  molten 
gold.  A  long  flight  of  cranes,  black  against 
the  golden  sky,  swept  down  to  meet  the 
dawn.  Cocks  crowed ;  and  on  the  waters  of 
Lake  Butos  the  first  lotus-blooms  opened 
their  white  chalices.  As  it  were  crimson 
flowed  and  lay,  here  and  there,  over  the 
silent,  silver  streaks  of  the  canals,  in  pools 
of  purple  red. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  travellers  had  left  Sais,  after  vi- 
siting the  temple  of  Athene  and  the 
tomb  of  Psammetichus,  son  of  Necho, 
founder  of  the  twenty-sixth  dynasty,  one  of 
the  twelve  kings  of  the  Dodecarchy,  who  di- 
vided Egypt  among  themselves  after  the 
death  of  Sethos  in  B.  C.  671.  Psammeti- 
chus, in  obedience  to  the  oracles,  defeated 
and  expelled  his  eleven  fellow-kings  and 
reigned  alone  at  Memphis  and  afterwards  at 
Sais.  Here  was  his  tomb;  it  was  sacred; 
there  was  an  oracle  attached  to  it;  and  Lu- 
cius had  consulted  that  oracle. 

After  that,  Lucius  had  consulted  the  man- 
teum,  or  oracle,  of  Latona  at  Butos,  on  an 
island  in  the,  lake.  He  had  next  visited 
Xois,  Hermopolis,  Lycopolis,  Mendes  and 
all  the  Sebennytic  nome,  or  province,  which 
contained  numberless  oracles  and  shrines. 
At  Mendes  the  god  Pan  was  worshipped; 

171 


172  THE  TOUR 

and  there  was  an  oracle  which  spoke  by 
means  of  the  god's  pipes.  Here  the  goat 
was  held  sacred  and  received  public  wor- 
ship at  the  hands  of  priestesses  in  Dionysiac 
frenzy.  The  travellers  next  visited  Diospo- 
lis  and  Leontopolis,  Busiris  and  Cunopolis 
and  all  the  Busiritic  nome. 

All  these  towns,  with  numbers  of  villages 
in  between,  covered  the  islands  of  the  flooded 
Delta,  densely  peopled  and  luxuriously  cul- 
tivated. The  great  farmsteads  and  country- 
mansions  stood  linked  along  the  canals, 
which  were  filled  high  to  their  banks  with  the 
flowing  waters.  The  ears  of  corn  swelled 
with  ripeness  along  the  shores ;  and  the  cat- 
tle gleamed  and  glanced,  grazing  in  the  rich 
meadows.  The  fat  fields  were  fragrant,  in 
these  last  days  of  the  summer  month  of 
Epiphi,  with  a  strange,  moist  scent  as  of 
nameless  flowers  ever  drenched  in  dew. 
The  sun  was  warm,  but  not  burning,  as 
though  the  moisture  of  so  many  waters  tem- 
pered all  the  heat;  the  fierce  rays  did  not 
burn,  as  though  they  were  ever  drinking  the 


THE  TOUR  173 

excessive  damp.  And  from  the  marshes, 
which  the  Nile  had  turned  into  lakes,  rose 
no  mist,  but  the  scent  of  the  water-flowers, 
of  lotus,  nymphea  and  nenuphar. 

The  rains  seemed  to  have  ended.  The 
maximum  gauge  in  the  Nilometers  appeared 
to  have  been  reached ;  only  the  morning  dew 
was  often  heavy,  like  rain.  But  the  days 
glided  past  in  an  immaculate  glory  of  sun- 
shine tempered  by  moisture,  while  the  rich, 
fragrant  country  lay  stretched  under  smooth 
skies,  which  changed  cloudlessly  from  mor- 
ning rose  to  midday  blue  and  evening  gold, 
in  a  gradual  fusing  of  tints.  There  was 
hardly  a  breeze  in  the  evening;  the  atmo- 
sphere retained  an  ideal  perfection  of  hea- 
venly, temperate  warmth;  this  summer 
warmth  was  fresh  and  cool. 

The  thalamegus  glided  up  the  Nile.  The 
river  was  as  wide  as  a  sea ;  everywhere,  in 
the  noonday  sun,  the  pools  of  the  waters  glit- 
tered in  among  the  farmsteads,  mansions 
and  shrines.  On  the  horizons,  the  outlines  of 
the  towns,  with  the  needles  of  the  obelisks, 


174  THE  TOUR 

shimmered  in  the  damp  haze.  At  every  mo- 
ment, dense  palm-clusters  or  sycamores 
raised  their  regular  canopies  along  the  river, 
forming  an  avenue,  or  else  tamarisks  luxu- 
riated and  their  branches  threw  fine  shadows, 
like  blue  stripes  upon  gold. 

There  lay  the  Athribitic  nome  and  the 
Prosopitic  nome,  whose  capital  is  Aph- 
roditopolis.  Lucius  went  on  shore  with  a 
great  retinue.  The  town,  consecrated  to 
Aphrodite,  was  peopled  by  none  but  hiero- 
dules,  priests  and  priestesses  of  the  goddess. 
Lucius  consulted  the  oracle. 

Next  morning,  after  the  orgy,  he  was  lying 
under  the  triple  awning  of  the  barge  which 
was  gliding  still  higher  up  the  river. 
Around  him  were  screens  of  plaited,  trans- 
parent reeds,  interwoven  with  flowers. 
Thrasyllus  sat  by  his  side : 

"Nemu-Pha  told  me,"  said  Thrasyllus, 
"that  both  Plato  and  Pythagoras  spent 
years  and  years  on  the  steps  of  the  temples 
of  Isis  before  they  were  deemed  worthy  of 
learning  one  word  of  the  Hermetic  wisdom. 


THE  TOUR  175 

Well,  I  never  imagined  that  Nemu-Pha 
would  unlock  the  Hermetic  wisdom  to  me. 
But  I  did  hope  perhaps  to  learn  a  single 
word  with  which,  continuing  to  meditate  my 
own  thoughts,  I  could  have  unlocked  the  se- 
cret, Lucius,  of  your  happiness.  But  Nemu- 
Pha  did  not  speak  that  word  to  me.  And 
yet,  my  son,  I  had  to  pay  him  a  high  price  to 
be  admitted  to  his  sanctuary.  I  am  sorry 
for  wasting  your  money." 

Lucius  smiled : 

"  Nevertheless,  Thrasyllus,  the  oracles, 
even  though  they  never  satisfy  the  ques- 
tioner wholly,  say  very  strange  things,  which 
make  an  impression.  Shall  I  make  you  a 
confession?  I  certainly  hope  that  I  shall 
one  day  know  who  robbed  me  of  Ilia.  And, 
when  I  know,  I  shall  not  rest  until  I  have 
tortured  him  and  made  him  die  a  thousand 
deaths." 

"It  was  the  pirates,  Lucius,"  said  Thra- 
syllus, evasively,  "unless  Ilia  was  drowned." 

"It  was  one  pirate,  Thrasyllus,"  said  Lu- 
cius. "All  the  oracles  now  never  speak  ex- 


176  THE  TOUR 

cept  of  one  pirate.  And  it  is  for  me  ...  as 
though  I  saw  him  before  me !  The  dog ! " 

The  barge  was  gliding  past  Latopolis,  on 
the  right ;  on  the  left,  standing  farther  back 
from  the  river,  Heliopolis  showed  faintly. 
They  were  nearing  Babylon,  but  the  travel- 
lers were  to  go  through  to  Memphis. 

"Look!"  said  Thrasyllus,  starting  up  in 
rapture.  ' '  The  Pyramids ! ' ' 

Lucius  turned,  with  real  interest.  There, 
on  the  horizon,  like  an  enormous,  mystic  ge- 
ometry, the  triangles  of  the  pyramids,  which 
announced  Memphis,  rose  against  the  pink 
morning  sky.  They  were  like  eternal  lines 
drawn  by  the  gods  from  earth  to  heaven. 

"The  Pyramids!"  echoed  Lucius,  as 
though  overcome  by  a  mystic  impression. 

On  the  other  side,  Heliopolis  was  now 
more  clearly  outlined,  standing  high  on  a 
hill,  with  the  temple  of  the  bull  Mnevis. 
Babylon,  a  suburb  of  Memphis,  swarmed 
on  the  river-bank  and  with  the  battle- 
ments of  its  forts  was  visible  through  a 
sycamore  avenue.  And  suddenly,  after  a 


THE  TOUR  177 

grove  of  palms,  Memphis  loomed  into  view. 

* l  Memphis ! ' '  cried  1^ hrasyllus. 

And  Uncle  Catullus,  appearing  from  his 
cabin,  pointed  and  repeated: 

"  Memphis!" 

The  old  Egyptian  capital  lay  Cyclopean, 
like  some  extinct  monster,  with  heavy  lines 
of  squat,  bleaching  sanctuaries  and,  on  the 
river,  a  portico  of  giant  pylons.  Behind 
these  age-old,  massive  buildings  the  Pyra- 
mids showed  spectrally. 

Thrasyllus  pointed  his  long,  crystal  spy- 
glass towards  the  horizon : 

"There!"  he  said,  with  a  shiver.  "The 
most  sacred  monument  in  Egypt!  The 
great  Sphinx,  the  immense  Neith,  the  ever 
silent  wisdom!  Next  to  the  second  pyra- 
mid :  that  looming  figure  of  a  gigantic,  mo- 
tionless animal!" 

The  barge  hove  to  and  was  moored.  Ca- 
leb proposed  that  they  should  go  on  shore. 

Here,  even  on  the  quays,  the  riotous  bustle 
of  agriculture  and  commerce  had  ceased  to 
reign.  Under  the  palms  there  was  not  the 


178  THE  TOUR 

metropolitan  press  and  throng  of  Alexan- 
dria, the  world's  market-place  and  empo- 
rium. Only  a  few  fruit-sellers  squatted  be- 
side their  wares  and  uttered  their  cries,  now 
that  they  saw  strangers,  offering  sliced  mel- 
ons and  coco-nut  milk.  Here  and  there  an 
Egyptian  cowered,  dreaming,  with  long, 
split  eyes.  The  quays  were  old,  grey,  wide 
and  deserted.  Even  the  foreigners'  barge 
roused  but  little  curiosity.  A  few  children 
at  play  assembled  when  the  two  litters  were 
carried  on  shore. 

Caleb  found  it  difficult  to  hire  two  camels, 
for  himself  and  Thrasyllus,  but  he  suc- 
ceeded. The  cavalcade  started;  Caleb's 
armed  guards — for  an  escort  was  needed 
here,  because  of  the  robbers  in  the  desert 
— surrounded  the  litters.  And  the  stran- 
gers proceeded  along  the  quays,  under  the 
palms,  to  the  city.  Caleb  rode  ahead,  for  he 
knew  the  city  and  the  way. 

The  city  was  gloomy,  huge  and  empty,  but 
Lucius,  ever  sensitive  to  impressions,  under- 
went the  enchantment  of  that  past.  For 


THE  TOUR  179 

Memphis  was  the  eternal  past.  The  town 
had  once  numbered  six  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants.  It  now  haply  numbered  a  few 
thousands;  the  rare  figures  in  the  wide 
streets  were  dwarfed  and  lost.  Sometimes 
a  woman's  face  peeped  out  from  the  half- 
opened,  vermilion  shutters  of  some  great 
grey,  dilapidated  house. 

Ye  gods,  what  dimensions!  What  lines, 
what  spaciousness  of  deserted  squares,  what 
heaven-high  rows  of  pylons!  The  Sera- 
peum  yonder,  at  the  endless  end  of  an  ave- 
nue of  six  hundred  sphinxes,  six  rows  of  a 
hundred  sphinxes,  the  ever-silent  incarna- 
tions of  wisdom,  the  lion-women  who  were 
the  wisdom  of  Neith!  What  colossal  sta- 
tues, hewn  out  of  one  block  of  stone  and  tow- 
ering to  the  sky,  with  the  pschent  crowns  of 
their  diadems !  And  everywhere  the  deathly 
silence  and  under  the  feet  of  the  Libyan 
bearers  the  dust  of  ages,  which  flew  up  on 
high  in  one  dense  cloud  after  another ! 

Caleb  rode  ahead,  by  the  sphinxes  in  the 
avenue.  They  stood  in  rows,  the  wise  lion- 


180  THE  TOUR 

esses  with  fixed  women's  faces,  eternal  guar- 
dians of  the  secret.  Some  of  them  were  al- 
ready sinking  in  the  sandy  ground,  disap- 
pearing with  their  stretched  fore-paws. 
Others  shelved  to  one  side,  borne  down  by 
the  pressure  of  the  centuries.  Here  the 
Pharaohs  themselves  had  passed  in  sacred 
processions!  Here  Moses  had  walked  and 
Hermes  Trismegistus ;  here  Joseph  had  wan- 
dered, the  interpreter  of  dreams;  here, 
lastly,  Cambyses,  with  his  Persian  hordes, 
had  ridden  sacrilegiously !  This  was  Mem- 
phis, thrice-sacred  Memphis,  profaned  long 
centuries  ago  and  now  dead  and  sinking  in 
the  devouring  sands  of  the  desert,  which  ap- 
proached from  the  west,  out  yonder!  The 
city  would  be  swallowed  up  by  the  sands! 
That  past  would  sink  back  into  the  lap  of  the 
earth! 

Suddenly  Lucius  shuddered  with  the  mys- 
tic awe  of  what  has  been.  And  his  own  life 
and  grief  seemed  small  to  him. 

They  approached  the  sanctuary.  It  rose 
as  a  huge  shadow.  And  from  every  door 


THE  TOUR  181 

swarmed  serving-priests  of  Serapis,  minor 
priests  and  door-keepers  .  .  .  because  they 
saw  the  strangers.  They  ranged  themselves 
in  front  of  the  entrance  and  stood  waiting. 

Caleb  said : 

"  These  are  distinguished  Latin  lords, 
cousins  of  the  divine  Caesar  Tiberius,  blessed 
be  his  name.  They  wish  to  see  the  sacred 
bull  .  .  ." 

"Apis  ..."  said  the  oldest  priest. 

"Who  is  Osiris,  in  the  sacred  shape  of  the 
bull  ..."  added  other  priests. 

And  others  again,  oracularly : 

"And  who  drew  the  plough  through  the 
fields  of  sacred  Egypt  when  he  disguised 
himself  with  the  other  gods  under  the  forms 
of  animals  ..." 

"From  the  eyes  of  Jupiter  Ammon,  who 
wished  to  reign  alone." 

"The  same,"  said  Caleb,  flinging  himself 
from  his  camel. 

The  priests  arranged  themselves  in  pro- 
cessional order  while  the  travellers  alighted 
and  Thrasyllus  also  slid  from  his  camel. 


182  THE  TOUR 

And  they  sang  the  Hymn  of  Apis,  as  they 
were  wont  to  do  when  visitors  came.  For 
in  the  huge  dead  city  of  Memphis,  inhabited 
by  hardly  a  few  thousands,  who  were 
dwarfed  and  lost  in  the  spaces  of  the  an- 
cient, mystic  capital  of  ancient,  mystic 
Egypt,  in  truth  the  worship  of  Apis  was  still 
maintained  only  because  all  the  travellers 
came  to  see  the  sacred  bull.  The  fees  which 
the  travellers  paid  to  the  priests  formed  the 
principal  revenue  of  their  brotherhood. 
The  temple  was  falling  in  ruins;  the  enor- 
mous pylons  seemed  to  totter,  the  gigantic 
architraves  leaned  forward;  the  giant 
statues  were  bruised  by  the  rains  and  eaten 
away,  as  though  the  centuries  themselves 
had  mutilated  them;  the  sphinxes  were 
sinking  into  the  sand.  But  still  the  worship 
of  the  bull  Apis  was  maintained  because  of 
the  strangers  and  their  fees. 

A  young  priest  who  spoke  a  little  Latin 
was  allotted  to  the  travellers  and  took  his 
place  by  Lucius'  side,  respectfully: 

11  It  is  a  pity,"  he  said,  smiling  cheerfully, 


THE  TOUR  183 

"that  Serapis  did  not  bring  you  to  Memphis 
a  month  earlier,  ^or  then,  my  noble  lord, 
you  would  have  beheld  the  death  of  Apis  and 
his  return  to  life." 

"What  is  this,  then?"  asked  Lucius. 

"The  incarnation  of  the  god  in  the  sacred 
bull  lasts  a  quarter  of  a  century,"  the  young, 
pleasant,  smiling  priest  explained.  "After 
being  incarnated  in  the  bull  for  five-and- 
twenty  years,  the  god  disappears  out  of  the 
bull  and  the  bull  is  marked  down  for  death. 
The  priests  drown  him  solemnly  in  the  Nile 
and  embalm  his  sacred  body  and  celebrate 
his  obsequies  with  special  ceremonies. 
What  a  pity,  my  lord,  that  you  have  come 
too  late !  After  the  obsequies  they  seek  the 
young  Apis,  they  seek  him  throughout  sa- 
cred Egypt.  As  a  rule  they  find  him  imme- 
diately, for  the  godhead  immediately  be- 
comes reincarnated  in  a  new-born  bull ;  and, 
if  it  omit  to  do  so,  the  calamity  is  so  great 
that  the  country  is  plunged  into  mourning 
and  the  disaster  foretells  universal  pl&gues. 
But  Serapis  Osiris  loves  his  Egypt  and  but 


184  THE  TOUR 

seldom  delays  the  new  incarnation.  This 
time,  after  Apis'  obsequies,  we  were  able  at 
once  to  celebrate  his  blessed  advent." 

"And  where  was  Apis  found?"  asked 
Lucius. 

"On  the  farm  belonging  to  my  father,  who 
is  a  land-owner,"  replied  the  pleasant  young 
priest,  smiling  mischievously.  "I  am  a 
land-owner's  son;  and,  when  Apis  was  born 
in  our  stables,  my  father  dedicated  me  to 
Osiris,  that  I  might  take  care  of  the  god.  I 
came  here  with  him ;  I  have  been  here  hardly 
a  month ;  I  came  with  him. ' ' 

And  he  smiled,  glad,  young  and  happy; 
his  fresh,  young  cheeks  were  still  bronzed 
with  the  sun  and  his  arms  and  hands  were 
sturdy  as  those  of  a  young  peasant  and  shep- 
herd. 

The  singing  priests  drew  themselves  up 
before  a  secos,  a  square  plot  of  grass  sur- 
rounded by  columns. 

"My  lords,"  said  the  pleasant-looking 
priest,  "this  is  the  secos  of  the  mother  of 
Apis  and  we  are  going  to  show  her  to  you." 


THE  TOUR  185 

"So  she  also  comes  from  your  father's 
farm*?"  asked  Uncle  Catullus. 

"Most  certainly,  my  lord,"  replied  the 
priest,  roguishly. 

"That  of  course  goes  without  saying," 
commented  Uncle  Catullus. 

The  young  priest  opened  the  gate  of  the 
secos.  At  the  far  end  was  the  sacred  stall, 
like  the  wide  interior  of  a  temple.  The 
priest  vanished  in  the  shadow. 

And,  when  he  reappeared,  he  was  leading, 
merely  by  pressing  his  hand  against  her 
snow-white  flank,  a  handsome,  sleek 
cow. 

•  He  led  her  to  the  strangers.  She  shone, 
well-tended  and  well-fed.  She  had  placid 
eyes  of  bluish  gold,  beautiful,  large,  soft  and 
womanly,  the  eyes  of  Hera  herself.  Her 
horns  were  gilded  and  her  hoofs  were 
painted  red. 

The  pleasant-looking  priest  led  her  to  the 
strangers  and  he  was  glad  and  happy  be- 
cause Apis'  mother  was  so  comely: 

"Is  she  not  handsome  ?"  he  asked  proudly. 


186  THE  TOUR 

The  strangers  smiled  and  agreed  that  she 
was  very  handsome ;  and  the  priest,  with  re- 
spectful familiarity,  stroked  her  snow-white 
flank  and  pointed  out  that  she  had  one  black 
foot.  Then  he  kissed  her,  fondly  and  reve- 
rently, on  her  moist  muzzle  and  led  her  back, 
with  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  to  the  temple 
that  was  her  stall.  She  went,  solemnly,  as 
though  aware  of  her  high,  sacred  dignity, 
which  existed  only  because  of  the  strangers 
and  their  fee. 

The  priest,  still  smiling,  returned;  and 
the  other  priests  sang  their  hymn. 

And,  by  the  priest's  pleasant  manner,  Lu- 
cius seemed  to  observe  that  he  ought  to  pay. 
He  beckoned  to  Caleb ;  and  there  was  a  mu- 
tual, smiling,  roguish  negotiation  between 
Caleb  and  the  priest.  For  Caleb  always 
tried  to  pay  the  fees  which  he  distributed  on 
Lucius'  behalf  a  little  less  liberally  than  he 
set  them  down  on  the  long  papyrus  scroll 
of  his  bill ;  and  he  generally  succeeded. 

But  the  priest  was  not  only  roguish,  but 
very  crafty  and  polite ;  and  the  negotiation, 


THE  TOUR  187 

conducted  in  mysterious  and  jocular  whis- 
pers, lasted  a  long  time  .  .  .  until  Lucius 
said,  impatiently,  but  still  smiling : 

"And  may  we  now  see  Apis  himself1?" 

So  Caleb  paid,  grudgingly.  But  the 
priest  remained  pleasant  and  the  other 
priests  sang  while  conducting  the  strangers 
to  Apis'  own  secos. 

This  sanctuary  was  even  bigger  and  more 
impressive  than  that  of  the  white  bull- 
mother.  There  was  a  square  in  front  of  it, 
with  obelisks;  and  the  pleasant-looking 
priest  entered  between  two  sphinxes.  But 
the  pillars,  the  obelisks,  the  sphinxes  seemed 
to  totter,  to  slant,  to  burst  with  old  age. 

The  priests  sang  the  hymn  and  suddenly, 
like  a  whirlwind,  a  young  bull  came  trotting 
out  of  the  stable  over  the  grass-plot.  It  was 
Apis;  and  the  priests  lifted  their  hands  in 
adoration  as  they  sang. 

But,  if  his  mother  was  stately  and  aware 
of  her  dignity,  Apis  himself  carried  his  di- 
vinity with  the  recklessness  of  his  wild 
youth.  He  ran  across  the  lawn,  glad  to  have 


188  THE  TOUR 

escaped  from  his  stable;  and  the  pleasant 
priest,  laughing,  ran  after  him.  But  he 
could  not  catch  him  by  his  gold  collar ;  and, 
panting  for  breath,  the  little  priest  said, 
proudly : 

" Isn't  he  beautiful  and  playful?  Isn't 
he  most  delightful,  our  Apis?" 

He  was  beautiful  and  playful  and  most  de- 
lightful, the  visitors  granted.  He  was  a 
splendid  bull-calf.  His  coat  gleamed  black 
as  jet;  and  he  was  painted  in  accordance 
with  the  sacred  prescript  without  which 
there  is  no  incarnation :  a  white  moon,  like  a 
snowy  little  crown,  shone  like  a  sickle  be- 
tween his  gilded  horns ;  and  two  other  little 
white  crowns  adorned  him  on  either  side 
above  the  fore-legs.  His  eyes  blazed  as  might 
carbuncles  with  a  light  kindled  behind  them ; 
and  he  stared  from  under  his  curly  forehead 
with  an  almost  human  glance.  His  neck  al- 
ready fell  into  powerful,  heavy  folds;  his 
chest  was  broad ;  and  he  lashed  his  tail  like 
a  whip.  His  hoofs  were  vermilion.  And  he 
trotted  round  his  grass-plot  and  pushed  out 


THE  TOUR  189 

the  sods  with  his  horns  and  scratched  with 
his  red  hoofs.  The  pleasant-looking  priest 
now  went  up  to  him,  laughing,  and  took  him, 
respectfully  and  yet  firmly,  by  the  gold  col- 
lar and  talked  to  him  and  laughed ;  and  Apis 
shook  himself;  and  the  priest  laughed;  and 
now  all  the  priests  began  to  laugh  and  the 
strangers  laughed  and  Caleb  roared  and 
Uncle  Catullus  held  his  sides.  Even  Lucius 
had  to  laugh  and  Thrasyllus  too;  they  all 
laughed  at  Apis,  because  he  was  such  a  de- 
lightful, pretty,  playful  bull-calf,  just  like  a 
merry  boy,  with  his  human  eyes  which  looked 
at  you  naughtily  and  watchfully  and  archly 
.  .  .  until  all  of  a  sudden  he  tore  himself 
loose  from  his  little  priest  and  ran,  ran  like 
a  whirlwind,  till  the  clods  of  earth  flew  all 
around. 

"He  is  so  pretty  and  playful!"  said  the 
little  priest,  glad  and  happy  as  a  boy,  when 
he  came  back  panting  after  locking  up  the 
little  bull  again  in  the  sanctuary.  "But  he 
is  wild,  he  is  very  wild :  as  a  rule,  we  only 
show  him  through  the  windows  of  his  secos ; 


190  THE  TOUR 

but  when  such  very  distinguished  strangers 
come  to  look  at  him,  we  let  him  out  for  a  trot, 
now  and  again.  Yes,  then  he  may  come  for 
a  trot,  once  in  a  way !  .  .  .  And  he  himself 
thinks  it  great  fun,  to  come  for  a  trot,  now 
and  then,  in  the  presence  of  strangers." 

Then  the  pleasant-looking  little  priest 
went  up  to  Caleb,  who  was  still  laughing 
aloud  because  Apis  was  such  a  very  delight- 
ful little  bull.  And  there  was  a  protracted 
negotiation,  mysterious,  jocular  and  yet 
weighty.  For  Caleb  was  taken  aback;  but 
then  the  little  priest  knew  what  it  cost  to 
make  Apis  trot  about  so  prettily  for  such 
very  distinguished  strangers. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THEY  took  the  repast  provided  by 
Caleb  outside  the  town,  in  a  farm- 
stead beside  a  canal,  under  a  cluster 
of  palm-trees.  There  were  no  dainty  dishes, 
there  were  no  topaz-coloured  wines  thick  as 
ink ;  but  there  were  omelettes  and  there  was 
cestreus,  the  sea-fish  that  swims  up  the  Nile 
in  certain  months :  friend  in  cici-oil,  this  is  a 
popular,  homely  dish,  it  is  true,  but  never- 
theless toothsome  for  hungry  travellers 
picnicking  in  the  grass.  There  was  foam- 
ing beer  and  hydromel,  or  honey-water ;  and 
Uncle  Catullus,  spoilt  though  he  was,  thought 
the  simple  meal  anything  but  unpalatable 
and  considered  that  an  idyll  of  this  sort  was 
good  for  the  stomach,  once  in  a  way. 

Lucius  told  Caleb  to  have  his  luncheon 
with  them;  and  Caleb,  after  much  depreca- 
tion and  many  salaams  at  the  honour  shown 
him,  squatted  down  and  crossed  his  legs  and 
ate  with  relish  and  kept  on  laughing  at  the 

191 


192  THE  TOUR 

thought  of  dear  little  Apis  trotting  round  his 
secos  for  the  strangers  who  paid  so  gener- 
ously. The  travellers  were  to  rest  under  the 
palm-trees  and  allow  the  midday  heat  to 
pass  before  going  on  to  the  pyramids.  For 
Caleb  had  sent  the  litters  back  to  the  barge 
and  had  now  hired  four  good  camels  at  the 
farm,  including  two  with  comfortable  sad- 
dles of  bright  tapestry,  for  his  two  noble 
clients. 

The  farmer  and  his  wife,  glad  at  the  visit 
that  brought  them  in  money,  spread  awnings 
under  which  the  travellers  could  enjoy  their 
siesta  and  laid  mats  on  the  ground;  and 
Uncle  Catullus  called  for  a  fly-net,  which  he 
wound  round  his  head.  And,  while  he  slept 
and  Caleb  also  closed  his  eyes,  Lucius,  with 
Thrasyllus  by  his  side,  gazed  at  the  wonder- 
ful, divinely  geometrical  lines  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  lightly-traced  triangles  against  the 
golden  noonday  sky. 

"The  base  is  square,"  said  Thrasyllus, 
"and  the  summit  is  square  but  looks 
pointed." 


THE  TOUR  193 

"To  me  they  seem  strang,  mysterious 
embodiments  of  vastness,"  said  Lucius. 
"What  are  they  actually?" 

"We  don't  altogether  know,"  replied 
Thrasyllus.  "Some  of  the  pyramids  were 
sepulchres  of  kings,  and  sacred  animals. 
Those  are  the  pyramids  of  Cheops,  or 
Khuf u,  or  Chephren  and  of  Mencheres ;  and 
we  shall  see  the  kings '  chambers  inside 
them.  They  were  built  twenty,  perhaps 
thirty  centuries  ago.  Herodotus  says  that 
the  pyramid  of  Cheops,  which  is  the  biggest, 
took  thirty  years  to  build  with  a  hundred 
thousand  slaves,  who  were  changed  every 
three  months.  The  name  is  derived  from 
™>,  fire,  because,  like  a  flame,  the  pyramid 
ends  in  a  point.  Many  were  used  as  store- 
houses in  the  long  years  of  famine;  others 
were  dykes  against  the  sands  of  the  desert, 
which  blew  towards  Memphis  and  threatened 
to  bury  the  city,  in  a  succession  of  ages. 
Many  pyramids  have  already  been  swallowed 
up  in  the  sands. " 

"What   are   those   ruined  palaces  over 


194  THE  TOUR 

there?"  asked  Lucius,  pointing  to  crumbled 
rows  of  pylons  and  pillars,  surmounted  by 
cracked  architraves,  impressive  ruins  which 
stood  on  a  hill  at  the  outskirts  of  the  town 
and  seemed  to  be  tumbling  into  the  Nile. 

"The  old  palaces  of  the  Pharaohs,"  said 
Thrasyllus.  "They  were  ten  in  number. 
Joseph,  the  Jewish  interpreter  of  dreams, 
was  a  powerful  governor  under  one  of  them ; 
Moses,  who  knew  Hermes  Trismegistus  and 
learned  the  occult  wisdom  from  him,  all  the 
wisdom  that  can  be  known,  was  saved,  as  a 
babe,  by  the  daughter  of  a  Pharaoh,  where 
his  sister  had  exposed  him  in  a  basket  made 
of  bulr  ashes  at  the  place  where  the  princess 
was  wont  to  bathe :  she  was  the  daughter  of 
Amenophis  III.,  who  saw  his  people  smitten 
with  ten  plagues  sent  over  Egypt  by  Jahve, 
the  God  of  the  Jews,  because  the  Pharaoh 
would  not  suffer  them  to  leave  the  country. 
This  Pharaoh  was  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea 
and  was  the  father  of  Sesostris.  ...  I 
have  written  on  these  scrolls  everything  that 
is  more  or  less  interesting." 


THE  TOUR  195 

And  Thrasyllus,  glad  to  see  that  Lucius' 
attention  was  attracted,  handed  him  the 
scrolls.  Lucius  began  reading : 

"This  all  happened  here!"  he  said,  star- 
tled and  arrested.  "This  is  all  ...  the 
past!  The  age-old  past,  which  is  gone, 
which  was  swallowed  up  by  the  sands  .  .  . 
thousands  of  years  ago !  .  .  .  How  small  we 
are  when  we  look  into  the  past  .  .  .  and 
when  we  gaze  into  the  centuries,  the  cen- 
turies that  have  buried  themselves  so 
deeply!" 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  tutor,  "I  am  so 
thankful  that  your  mind  is  once  more 
capable  of  receiving  these  impressions. 
For  the  beauty  of  the  past  is  a  comfort  for 
the  future;  and  the  sick  soul  is  healed  in 
that  beauty  when  it  understands  that  its  own 
grief  is  but  a  grain  of  sand  in  a  desert  which 
blow  in  the  wind  and  conceals  all  things." 

Lucius  made  no  further  reply,  absorbed  in 
what  he  was  reading  about  Joseph  and 
Moses,  about  Jahve  and  Pharaoh  Ameno- 
phis,  who  was  the  father  of  Sesostris.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  golden  noonday  sky  paled;  the 
blinding  topaz  of  the  heavens  melted 
away  into  amber  honey;  and  the 
sands  of  the  desert  stretched  out  wide,  far 
and  endless  to  the  last  glittering  streak  of 
the  horizon,  on  which  the  sun  had  set.  Be- 
hind the  group  formed  by  the  travellers — 
four  camels  surrounded  by  drivers  and 
guards,  Arabs  and  Libyans — between  the 
darkling  palm-trees  the  gigantic  city  of 
Memphis  sank  into  shadow  like  some  vast 
extinct  monster ;  and  the  crumbling  palaces 
of  the  kings  sloped  down  the  hill,  as  it  were 
tumbling  into  the  Nile,  and  mirrored  their 
ruins  in  the  clear  sapphire  of  the  stream, 
where  the  pools  lay  pink  and  gold  among  the 
tall  reeds  and  the  lotuses  closing  on  the  face 
of  the  water.  The  last  fallen  pillars  lay, 
round  and  immense,  in  the  luxuriant  grass, 
amid  a  riot  of  scarlet  and  crimson  poppies. 

196 


THE  TOUR  197 

Mysteriously  carved  with  hieroglyphics, 
they  were  as  felled  Titans  of  rose-red  gra- 
nite ;  and  they  pressed  heavily  on  the  ground 
wherein  they  were  sinking.  They  were  of  a 
melancholy  majesty,  those  huge  overthrown 
pillars  which  had  supported  the  golden  roofs 
above  the  might  of  the  Pharaohs. 

Caleb  rode  his  camel  with  a  swagger,  as 
though  he  were  bestriding  his  Sabaean  mare. 
He  dug  his  heel  into  the  camel's  side;  and 
the  startled  brute  took  great  strides,  snort- 
ing and  grunting ;  Caleb  roared  with  delight. 
The  Libyans,  big-limbed  and  powerful,  went 
silently ;  the  Arab  drivers  yelled  and  shouted. 

Forty  stadia  from  Memphis  rose  a  broad, 
hilly  dyke,  on  which  the  pyramids  stood. 
And  Caleb,  who,  as  the  guide,  also  knew  a 
thing  or  two,  cried : 

"My  lord,  two  of  the  pyramids  yonder, 
the  largest,  belong  to  the  seven  wonders  of 
the  world!  They  are  a  stadium  high;  and 
the  length  of  their  sides  is  equal  to  their 
height.  They  are  the  two  tombs  of  the  Pha- 
raohs; but  the  smaller  pyramid,  higher  up 


198  THE  TOUR 

on  the  hill  and,  as  you  see,  built  entirely  of 
black  stone,  was  the  costliest  of  all." 

He  trotted  on  his  startled  camel  around 
the  others  and  cried : 

"Master  Thrasyllus  won't  deny  it,  learned 
though  he  is!" 

Thrasyllus  smiled ;  and  Caleb,  glad  at  be- 
ing allowed  to  speak,  continued : 

"That  black  stone  comes  from  Southern 
Ethiopia  and  is  heavier  than  any  other  stone 
and  incredibly  hard !  That  is  why  the  pyra- 
mid cost  so  much.  But  then  it  was  erected 
by  all  the  lovers  of  Queen  Cleopatra ;  and  it 
is  she  who  is  buried  there ! ' ' 

" Caleb,"  cried  Master  Thrasyllus,  "what 
you  have  been  telling  about  the  black  stone  I 
accept;  but  Cleopatra,  who  died  in  Alexan- 
dria, was  not  buried  at  Memphis." 

"Cleopatra,  Cleopatra!"  Caleb  insisted, 
vigorously ;  but  he  now  rushed  away  on  his 
bewildered  camel,  because  he  wanted  to  warn 
the  priest-custodian  of  the  pyramids  that 
there  were  great  lords  approaching. 

"Caleb  is  wrong,"  said  Thrasyllus,  as  the 


THE  TOUR  199 

three  camels  stepped  along  sedately,  among 
the  gigantic  Libyans  and  shouting  Arabs, 
while  Caleb  tore  fantastically  over  the  sands. 
"The  black  pyramid  yonder  is  really  not  the 
tomb  of  Cleopatra.  The  historians  speak  of 
Doricha,  an  hetaira  mentioned  by  Sappho, 
the  famous  poetess,  as  the  mistress  of  her 
brother  Charaxus,  who  was  a  wine-merchant 
at  Lesbos  and  travelled  constantly  to  Nau- 
cratis.  This  costly  black  tomb  is  said  to 
have  been  dedicated  to  Doricha,  who  died 
young,  by  her  lovers.  .  .  ." 

The  cavalcade  had  drawn  near ;  the  camels, 
in  obedience  to  the  drivers'  orders,  knelt 
down;  the  travellers  slipped  to  the  ground. 
And  Caleb  at  once  came  to  meet  them,  smi- 
ling, at  the  head  of  six  priest-custodians, 
whose  business  it  was  to  keep  up  the  interior 
of  the  pyramids  and  show  the  shrines  to  for- 
eigners. , 

"Do  many  foreigners  come  here?"  Uncle 
Catullus  asked  of  the  oldest  priest. 

"Not  a  week  passes  in  this  present 
month,"  said  the  old  priest,  "but  foreigners 


200  THE  TOUR 

come  to  admire  the  sacred  pyramids.  You 
are  Latins,  but  we  also  receive  visits  from 
Greek  lords  and  Persians  and  Indians. 
When  the  Nile  has  subsided  to  its  lowest 
gauge,  however,  when  the  autumnal  winds 
blow  and  the  sand-storms  begin,  then  no 
more  foreigners  come.  For  then  death  and 
destruction  blow  out  of  the  deserts,  as  the 
hurricanes  of  fate  which  one  day  will  cover 
Memphis  with  a  sandy  shroud.  See  these 
few  sphinxes,  whose  heads  alone  still  pro- 
ject above  these  downs.  Once  they  num- 
bered hundreds ;  and  an  avenue  stretched  be- 
tween their  silence  to  the  Pyramids.  But 
the  desert  swallowed  them  up,  the  hurricanes 
spread  them  with  dust,  the  sandy  shroud  co- 
vered up  the  wisdom  of  Neith.  One  day  the 
shroud  will  cover  up  all  Egypt  and  veil  all 
her  wisdom.  What  was  known  will  be 
known  no  longer.  That  will  be  the  punish- 
ment of  the  gods,  inflicted  upon  unworthy 
man,  who  will  be  plunged  into  a  night  of 
ignorance  and  the  bestiality  of  primitive  de- 
sire. The  centuries  will  turn  about ! ' ' 


THE  TOUR  201 

The  priests  in  attendance,  with  a  simple 
pressure  of  the  hand,  had  caused  a  heavy 
monolithic  door  to  turn  on  its  hinges  in  the 
largest  of  the  pyramids.  They  lighted 
torches  and  went  through  the  syrinx,  a  wind- 
ing tunnel  painted  with  gigantic  figures  of 
gods  and  with  hieroglyphics.  It  was 
strange,  but  there  was  a  humming  and  mur- 
mur of  voices,  though  the  pyramid  was  un- 
inhabited. It  was  as  though  a  swarm  of 
ghosts  were  whirling  around  like  a  gale  of 
wind.  The  impression  was  given  immedi- 
ately; and,  when  the  travellers  exchanged 
glances,  they  saw  in  one  another's  eyes  that 
they  were  all  four  thinking  the  same  thing ; 
and  Caleb  muttered  saving  incantations  and 
repeatedly  kissed  his  amulets. 

The  priests  led  the  way,  while  the  flames 
of  the  torches  blew  and  blew  in  the  mysteri- 
ous draught,  as  though  ghosts  were  hover- 
ing around.  The  travellers  entered  an 
enormous,  square  room;  huge  statues  were 
sculptured  in  the  stone  walls;  and,  though 
the  room  was  empty,  there  was  a  smell  of 


202  THE  TOUR 

spices,  as  if  the  smells  of  old  had  lingered 
eternally.  Two  bats  fluttered  to  the  ceiling 
and  whirled  round  in  a  circle. 

"This  is  the  king's  chamber  of  Cheops," 
said  the  old  priest.  "Once  upon  a  time  it 
contained  a  sarcophagus  of  azure  granite, 
with  the  embalmed  body  of  the  great  King 
Cheops,  or  Khufu;  and  it  was  surrounded 
by  the  sarcophagi  of  his  brothers.  He  wore 
out  his  people  with  taxes  and  heavy  labour, 
in  order  to  found  this  mausoleum  for  him- 
self. Where  is  he  now?  Where  is  his  em- 
balmed body?  Where  is  his  azure  sarco- 
phagus? Where  are  the  sarcophagi  of  his 
brothers  Chef  ren  and  Schaf ra  ?  Where  are 
they?  Where  are  they?  They  are  scat- 
tered and  vanished  as  grains  of  sand,  the 
mummies  of  the  proud  rulers,  covered  with 
scented  wax  and  tightly  swathed  in  narrow 
bandages;  and  scattered  and  vanished  are 
their  sarcophagi;  and  one  day  these  pyra- 
mids themselves  will  be  scattered  and 
vanished,  swallowed  up  in  the  lap  of  the 
earth!  Everything  vanishes,  all  is  vanity: 


THE  TOUR  203 

thy  wisdom  alone,  O  Keith,  is  needful  to 
man!" 

"Thy  wisdom  alone,  O  Neith,  is  needful  to 
man ! ' '  echoed  the  priests. 

' '  And  we  no  longer  possess  it ! ' ' 

"Alas,  alas,  we  no  longer  possess  it!" 
echoed  the  priests,  mechanically,  indiffer- 
ently, while  they  led  the  way  back  through 
the  tunnel ;  and  their  words  blew  away  in  the 
strange,  mysterious  draught,  because  of  the 
invisible  ghosts  that  hovered. 

But,  when  they  were  outside,  the  priests 
kept  their  torches  alight;  and  they  led  the 
travellers  to  the  small,  black  pyramid. 
They  pushed  open  the  stone  door;  and  the 
old  priest  went  in  first.  There  was  a  long 
tunnel,  followed  by  a  room  with  smooth, 
black,  polished  walls,  in  which  the  torches 
and  the  shadows  of  the  travellers  and  priests 
themselves  were  reflected  curiously. 

"The  pyramid  of  Cleopatra,"  whispered 
Caleb  to  Thrasyllus. 

"The  pyramid  of  Doricha,"  Thrasyllus 
corrected  him,  with  a  smile. 


204  THE  TOUR 

But  the  old  priest  shook  his  head  gently 
and,  in  a  low  and  fond  voice,  said : 

* '  The  pyramid  of  Rhodopis.  She  lived  at 
Naucratis  and  was  incomparably  beautiful 
and  chaste.  One  day,  when  she  was  bathing, 
an  eagle  flew  through  the  open  ceiling  of  the 
bathroom  and  plucked  from  her  maid's 
hands  the  sandal  which  she  was  just  about  to 
lace  on  her  mistress'  foot." 

Lucius  suddenly  turned  very  pale.  But 
the  priest  continued : 

"The  eagle  flew  to  Memphis,  where  the 
king  was  administering  justice  in  one  of  the 
courts  of  the  palace;  and,  flying  above  the 
king,  the  eagle  dropped  the  sandal,  so  that  it 
fell  into  the  folds  of  the  king's  garment. 
The  king  was  much  surprised;  and  he  ex- 
amined the  sandal,  which  was  as  small  as  a 
child's  and  yet  was  the  sandal  of  a  woman. 
And  he  bade  his  servants  search  all  Egypt 
to  find  the  woman  whom  so  small  a  sandal 
would  fit.  His  servants  then  found  Rho- 
dopis at  Naucratis  and  carried  her  to  the 


THE  TOUR  205 

king  and  he  married  her ;  and,  when  she  died, 
after  a  few  months'  happiness,  the  discon- 
solate king  dedicated  to  her  the  black  pyra- 
mid .  .  .  which  is  the  costliest  of  all  the 
pyramids.  .  .  .  Rhodopis'  scented  mummy 
vanished;  her  sarcophagus  vanished.  But 
the  sandal,  which  the  king  ever  worshipped, 
was  preserved  by  a  miracle.  Behold  it." 

And  the  priests,  with  their  torches,  lighted 
in  the  middle  of  the  jet-black  room  a  crystal 
shrine,  standing  on  a  black-porphyry  table. 
And  in  the  crystal  shrine  lay  a  little  sandal, 
like  a  child's  and  yet  a  woman's,  a  little  red- 
leather  sandal  with  gold  ornaments,  ara- 
besques that  glittered  incredibly  fresh. 

"The  sandal  kept  for  tourists,"  mur- 
mured Uncle  Catullus,  with  a  sceptical  smile. 
"We  shall  pay  for  it  presently,  Caleb,  just 
as  we  did  for  the  little  Apis. " 

* '  But  still  it  is  very  pretty,  my  lord, ' '  whis- 
pered Caleb,  with  a  smile. 

But  Lucius  was  trembling  in  every  limb. 
And  he  said  to  Thrasyllus : 


206  THE  TOUR 

"This  is  an  omen.  I  had  never  heard  of 
this  legend.  This  sandal,  in  this  shrine ! . . . 
I  would  be  alone  with  the  priest !" 

The  request  of  so  distinguished  a  noble 
could  not  be  gainsaid.  The  others  withdrew, 
after  fixing  two  torches  in  sconces.  Lucius 
remained  alone  with  the  old  priest,  by  the 
shrine  of  Rhodopis'  sandal.  And  then  he 
produced  Ilia's  little  sandal  from  his  breast 
and  said : 

1  'Wise  priest  and  holy  father,  you  possess 
wisdom,  you  assuredly  still  know  the  past. 
I  have  confidence  in  you :  you  shall  tell  me 
where  the  girl  Ilia  is,  whom  I  have  lost ;  you 
shall  tell  me  who  stole  her  from  me.  See, 
this  sandal  is  the  only  trace  that  she  left  be- 
hind her.  Tell  me  the  past  and  I  will  re- 
ward you  richly. '  ' 

The  priest  took  the  sandal  and  pressed  it 
to  his  head,  while  his  other  hand  trembled 
above  the  crystal  shrine : 

"May  the  spirit  of  Rhodopis  enlighten 
me,"  said  the  old  priest.  "I  see  Ilia  .  .  ." 

"Dead?" 


THE  TOUR  207 

"No,  alive." 

"Alone?" 

"No,  with  her  kidnapper." 

"Do  you  see  her  kidnapper?" 

"Yes." 

"Describe  him  to  me!" 

"Give  me  your  hand,  here,  above  Rho- 
dopis'  sandal." 

Lucius  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  priest, 
above  the  sandal : 

"Describe  him  to  me!"  he  repeated. 

And  in  his  tortured  mind  he  saw  before 
him  the  image  of  one  of  his  own  sailors,  of 
whom  he  had  been  thinking  lately,  who  at 
that  time  used  to  prowl  about  the  villa  at 
Baiae :  a  Cypriote  whom  he  had  once  caught 
talking  to  Ilia  in  the  oleanders;  she  had 
never  been  able  to  explain  what  he  was  doing. 

There  was  a  pause.  The  priest's  lean 
hand  trembled  violently  in  Lucius'  firm 
grasp.  And  at  last  the  priest  said,  with  his 
eyes  closed  and  his  other  hand  still  pressing 
Ilia's  sandal  to  his  forehead: 

"I  see  him,  plainly,  plainly!    Rhodopis' 


208  THE  TOUR 

spirit  is  enlightening  me!  I  see  the  kid- 
napper !  I  see  Ilia 's  kidnapper ! ' ' 

"Is  he  tall?" 

"He  is  tall." 

"Broad?" 

"He  has  broad  shoulders  .  .  .  and  a 
coarse  face;  he  is  of  a  coarse  beauty  which 
women  sometimes  like,  which  unworthy 
women  prefer  to  noble  beauty,  because  they 
prefer  rude  passion  to  love  .  .  .  Rhodopis' 
chaste  spirit  is  over  me !  I  see  the  kidnap- 
per." 

"How  is  he  clad?    As  a  slave?" 

"No." 

"As  a  freedman?" 

"No." 

"As  a  freeman?" 

"Yes." 

"  As  a  patrician  ?    A  knight  ? ' ' 

"No." 

"As  a  soldier?" 

"No." 

"As  a  sailor?" 

"No.    Yes,  he  is  clad  as  a  sailor,  I  think, 


THE  TOUR  209 

my  lord.  But  I  no  longer  see  him,"  said  the 
priest,  opening  his  eyes.  *  *  And  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  tell  you  anything  more. " 

He  gave  Lucius  back  the  sandal.  The 
other  priests  returned,  took  up  the  torches. 
Quivering  with  suppressed  rage,  Lucius 
walked  out  of  the  black  pyramid.  Uncle 
Catullus  was  already  sitting  on  his  camel. 

Lucius  also  mounted  his.  The  Cypriote's 
image  now  stood  clearly  before  Ms  eyes. 
But  he  said  nothing;  his  lips  were  tightly 
shut,  his  forehead  frowned ;  his  grief  seemed 
to  be  restrained  and  subdued  in  his  heart  by 
his  outraged  pride. 

And,  while  Caleb  paid  the  lordly  fee,  as  he 
always  did,  Lucius  slipped  into  the  old 
priest's  hand  a  purse  heavy  with  gold. 


CHAPTER  XVIIII 

THE  short  twilight  had  deepened  to 
purple  over  the  desert;  night  came 
gliding  along  the  firmament;  the 
stars  began  to  peep.  And  Caleb,  who  sus- 
pected Lucius'  emotion  at  each  fresh  divina- 
tion, considered  that  new  impressions  would 
be  the  best  medicine  for  him.  After  a  short 
deliberation  with  Uncle  Catullus  and  Thra- 
syllus,  he  said : 

"My  noble  lord,  before  the  night  has  quite 
fallen,  I  should  like  to  take  you  to  the  great 
Neith  .  .  .  for  the  sake  both  of  the  statue 
itself  and  of  the  Jewish  prophet,  a  hermit, 
who  dwells  in  a  cave  hard  by." 

Lucius  nodded  his  approval.  And  in  the 
falling  night  he  sat  erect  on  the  saddle-pad 
of  his  camel  and  raised  his  head  towards  the 
stars.  Had  he  guessed  the  truth  ?  Had  the 
truth  gradually  been  revealed  within  him? 

Or  had  the  sibyl,  Amphris,  the  oracle  and  the 

210 


THE  TOUR  211 

priests  whom  lie  had  consulted  really  shown 
him  the  way  to  that  truth?  He  did  not 
know,  he  had  so  many  vague  memories  that 
it  all  grew  confused  in  his  seeking,  solving 
brain.  .  .  .  But  he  certainly  saw  the  Cypri- 
ote, the  sailor,  Carus  .  .  .  who,  shortly  be- 
fore Ilia's  disappearance,  had  himself  dis- 
appeared from  the  crew  of  the  quadri- 
reme  .  .  .  and  whom  he  had  once  found 
with  Ilia  among  the  oleanders!  A  thing 
which  Ilia  had  never  been  able  to  explain! 
Carus !  A  sailor !  Not  a  slave,  it  was  true, 
but  one  of  his  meanest  servants !  A  Cyprian 
sailor,  to  have  robbed  him  of  the  woman  who 
reigned  as  queen  over  his  house,  whom  he 
dressed  like  a  goddess,  whom  he  covered  with 
everything  that  was  precious!  And  she 
must  have  been  kidnapped,  it  could  not  be 
otherwise,  with  her  own  consent,  her  own, 
infatuated  consent. 

Had  he  guessed  the  truth  ?  Had  his  gro- 
ping brain  at  last  divined  the  truth?  Or 
had  the  priests  and  the  oracles  and  Amphris 
and  the  sibyl  indeed  revealed  the  truth  to 


212  THE  TOUR 

him  ?  He  decided  that  they  must  have  done 
so.  His  soul  was  inclined  to  accept  the  su- 
pernatural. And  he  knew,  he  kneiv,  thanks 
to  the  wise  knowledge  of  the  priests  and  the 
oracles. 

So  she  had  been  ahle  to  leave  him,  him,  for 
his  hired  sailor!  He  raised  his  head  to- 
wards the  stars.  His  lips  were  tightly 
clenched,  his  forehead  frowned.  But  never, 
he  resolved,  would  his  lips  utter  to  any  one, 
not  even  to  Thrasyllus,  the  secret  truth 
which  the  oracles  had  revealed  to  him.  He 
would  be  silent  and  his  pride  would  suppress 
his  grief. 

"Look,  my  lord,"  said  Caleb,  while  Lu- 
cius still  stared  straight  before  him,  up,  to- 
wards the  stars. 

Lucius  lowered  his  eyes.  And  suddenly 
he  gave  a  start.  The  Sphinx  loomed  before 
him  in  the  night.  In  the  immense  starry 
night,  with  the  sands  glittering  all  around 
h'ke  a  silver  sea,  loomed  the  immense  Neith, 
the  omniscient  wisdom.  It  was  more  gigan- 
tic than  any  sphinx  that  he  had  ever  seen. 


THE  TOUR  213 

It  had  been  shaped  by  Nature  herself  out  of 
an  immense  monolith.  Human  hands  had 
only  reshapen  it  more  plainly  for  human 
eyes  .  .  .  into  the  Sphinx.  It  was  not  the 
veiled  Isis  of  Sais ;  it  was  the  unveiled,  silent 
knowledge,  which  had  known  everything 
from  the  beginning  of  time.  It  raised  its 
head  towards  the  stars  ...  as  he  had  done. 
It  was  resting:  its  lioness-body  rested  and 
sank  into  the  sand;  its  fore-paws  projected 
like  walls.  Its  superhuman  breasts  seemed 
to  heave  in  the  night.  Its  fixed  eyes  stared 
upwards  and  its  granite  veil  stood  out  upon 
its  lioness-body.  It  was  awesomely  beauti- 
ful in  the  starry  night. 

The  travellers  had  alighted.  And  Caleb 
had  fetched  the  Jewish  hermit  from  the  cave 
in  which  he  lived,  opposite  the  Sphinx. 

"I  believe  he's  mad,"  said  Caleb,  shyly, 
a  little  frightened  of  Lucius'  frown.  "But 
it  doesn't  matter  if  he  is  mad.  He  is  the 
Jewish  hermit;  and  all  distinguished 
foreigners,  such  as  your  lordship,  listen  to 
him  .  .  .  because  he  says  strange  things." 


214  THE  TOUR 

"He  too ! "  muttered  Lucius. 

The  Jewish  hermit  came  up  to  them  in  the 
fallen  night.  He  was  of  giant  stature 
and  incredibly  old;  his  beard  fell  in  waves 
down  to  his  waist.  His  grey  robe  dragged 
over  the  sand.  And  he  exclaimed,  in  a  loud 
voice : 

"I  am  Tsafnath-Paeneach,  'he  who  re- 
veals mysteries!'  I  am  of  the  tribe  of  Jo- 
seph himself,  who  took  to  wife  Asenath  the 
daughter  of  Potipherah  priest  of  On!  In 
me  was  the  wisdom  of  Joseph,  who  inter- 
preted dreams, -and  the  wisdom  of  the  priests 
of  On !  But  all  wisdom  is  dead  in  me,  Jahve 
be  praised,  since  I  beheld  Him!" 

"Whom?"  asked  Lucius,  dismayed  by  the 
prophet's  booming  voice. 

"It  was  a  night  of  twinkling  stars !"  cried 
the  prophet.  "It  was  thirty  years  ago!  I 
lived  in  mv  cave,  as  I  do  now !  And  I  knew 

H 

everything  and  I  looked  Neith  in  the  face 
and  in  the  eyes.  .  .  .  Along  the  road,  yon- 
der, through  the  sands  .  .  .  they  came! 
They  came,  they  came,  they  drew  near.  .  .  . 


THE  TOUR  215 

On  an  ass  that  stumbled  with  fatigue  sat  a 
woman.  A  greybeard,  staff  in  hand,  led  the 
stumbling  beast.  Then  I  saw  that  the  wo- 
man held,  pressed  to  her  breast,  in  the  folds 
of  her  mantle,  a  Child !  And  the  woman  was 
like  Heva  and  like  Isis ;  and  the  Child  was 
like  Habel  and  like  Horus.  When  they 
came  before  the  mighty  Neith,  the  ass  could 
stumble  no  farther  through  the  sands  of  the 
desert.  And  the  woman  alighted  and  smiled 
upon  the  Child  through  her  tears.  But  the 
greybeard  led  the  woman  to  the  mighty 
Neith  and  helped  her  to  climb  into  its  deep 
granite  lap.  There  the  woman  rested 
against  Neith 's  bosom  and  the  Child  rested 
against  the  woman's  bosom.  And  then  .  .  . 
then  I  saw,  I,  Tsafnath-Paeneach,  I  who 
reveal  mysteries,  that  the  Child  that  was 
like  Habel  and  Horus  was  radiant  in  the 
night,  in  the  folds  of  the  woman's  mantle! 
The  Child  was  radiant ;  a  wreath  of  rays,  a 
halo  of  light  shone  about  the  Child!  The 
mother  slept,  the  radiant  Child  slept,  the 
greybeard  slept  .  .  .  and  the  mighty  Neith 


216  THE  TOUR 

watched  over  their  sleep  in  the  starry  night ! 
Then,  O  Jahve,  I  knew  that  I  had  beheld  Thy 
Son;  and  this  happiness  was  my  last  wis- 
dom. Since  then  I  know  nothing  more,  O 
Jahve,  be  praised!  Since  then  I  have  dis- 
covered no  mysteries !  Since  then  the  know- 
ledge of  Joseph  has  died  away  within  me  and 
that  of  the  priests  of  On !  For  I  have  seen 
Jahve 's  Son,  there,  there,  in  the  lap  of 
Neith  .  .  .  and  since  then  I  have  seen  no- 
thing but  that  vision !  And  I  shall  die  with 
the  vision  of  the  radiant  Child  before  my 
eyes!" 

The  prophet's  loud,  booming  voice  had 
risen  to  a  cry  of  joy ;  and  Caleb  repeated  to 
Lucius,  in  a  whisper : 

"You  see,  my  lord,  he's  mad." 

But  Thrasyllus,  on  the  other  side,  whis- 
pered : 

"He's  not  mad,  Lucius  ...  He  is  a 
seer  .  .  .  He  has  seen.  .  .  .  He  has  per- 
haps seen  the  new  God  of  Whom  all  the 
sibyls  speak  ..." 

"Which  new  Godl"  asked  Lucius, 


THE  TOUR  217 

"I  don't  know  His  name,"  said  Thra- 
syllus. 

But  Uncle  Catullus  spoke : 

"My  dear  nephew,  that  great  monstrous 
fellow  frightens  me,  here  in  the  dark,  in  the 
desert,  in  front  of  this  awful  statue.  Egypt 
gives  me  too  many  impressions.  I  feel  like 
a  sponge  full  of  water,  so  soaked  am  I  with 
impressions.  Egypt  will  be  the  death  of  me, 
Lucius,  you'll  see  it  will !  Meanwhile  I  pro- 
pose to  mount  my  camel. " 

And  Uncle  Catullus  called  his  guards  and 
drivers  and  bade  them  make  his  camel  kneel 
down  for  him. 

But  Lucius  went  to  the  prophet  and  drew 
him  aside : 

"Do  you  know  the  past?"  he  asked,  anxi- 
ously. 

"The  past1?"  echoed  the  Jewish  seer,  in  an 
uncertain  voice ;  and  his  eyes  were  as  though 
blind. 

"Do  you  see  and  can  you  tell  me  if  that 
which  I  think  has  happened  ...  is  un- 
doubtedly true  ?" 


218  THE  TOUR 

"I  no  longer  see  either  the  past  or  the  fu- 
ture," said  the  seer.  "I  see  nothing  but  the 
present.  And  the  present  for  me  is  nothing 
but  .  .  .  the  radiant  Child  yonder!" 

"Who  is  He?"  asked  Lucius. 

"I  do  not  know,  unless  He  be  Jahve's 
Son!"  cried  the  seer.  "He  was  like  Habel, 
he  was  like  Horus.  But  I  do  not  know,  un- 
less He  be  Jahve's  Son!" 

Thrasyllus  approached  : 

"Lucius,"  he  said,  "let  us  go.  The  night 
is  falling  and  the  guards  have  warned  us 
against  wild  animals  and  robbers." 

"Let  Caleb  give  the  prophet  a  gold  piece," 
said  Lucius. 

Cabel  produced  a  stater ;  but  the  prophet's 
laugh  of  thunder  made  him  stagger  back. 

"Gold!"  cried  the  prophet,  laughing  like 
thunder.  "What  do  I  want  with  dead  gold ! 
I  have  seen  living  gold ;  I  have  seen  the  Child 
That  was  radiant  gold  as  the  sun  itself,  ra- 
diant as  the  burning  bush !  What  do  I  want 
with  dead  gold!" 


THE  TOUR  219 

"He's  mad!  He's  mad!"  cried  Caleb. 
"He  doesn't  want  gold!" 

And,  terrified,  Caleb  slipped  back  the 
stater — but  into  another  purse,  in  which  he 
collected  his  savings — and  rushed  to  his 
camel,  which  was  already  kneeling  in  the 
sand. 

In  the  light  of  the  stars  that  twinkled 
over  the  sea  of  sand  the  travellers  rode  back 
to  Memphis. 


CHAPTER  XTX 

IT  was  very  early  one  morning  and  Lu- 
cius was  walking  alone  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river.  In  the  tender  dawn 
the  vast  grey  lines  of  Memphis  became  vi- 
sible in  rose-red  silhouette. 

Lucius  was  wandering  alone.  Solitude 
had  become  dear  to  him,  like  rest  after  a  se- 
vere illness,  especially  because  he  doubted 
his  cure.  He  doubted ;  he  doubted  the  cert- 
ainty. 

Did  he  know  the  truth?  He  was  doubt- 
ing now,  after  a  sleepless  night,  and  asking 
himself,  did  he  know  the  truth  ?  And,  if  he 
knew  the  truth,  was  he  really  cured,  cured 
in  his  sick  soul,  cured  of  his  suffering? 

He  did  not  know ;  he  no  longer  knew  any- 
thing. He  wandered  beside  the  Nile,  alone, 
without  knowing,  without  knowing.  A 
dulness  filled  his  brain,  like  a  mist.  Life 

was  awaking  on  the  farms  with  cheerful 

220 


THE  TOUR  221 

rural  activity.  The  grain  burst  under  the 
millstones;  and  the  women  on  their  knees 
rubbed  with  powerful  palms  the  dough  which 
the  men  beside  them  had  already  kneaded 
with  the  vigorous  dance  of  their  feet. 
Lucius  stopped  to  look  on ;  and  they  laughed ; 
and  he  laughed  back.  The  men  danced  and 
the  women  rubbed  and  they  laughed  and 
were  happy.  A  jealousy  of  their  happiness 
rose  hotly  in  the  young  Roman. 

"Will  you  give  me  some  milk?"  he  asked 
a  girl  who  was  milking  a  splendid,  snow- 
white  cow. 

The  girl  handed  the  stranger  the  milk  in 
the  hollow  leaf  of  a  cyamus-plant.  Lucius 
did  not  know  whether  to  give  her  any  money. 
He  drank  and  handed  back  the  reed  goblet : 

" Thank  you,"  he  said;  and  she  laughed 
and  went  on  milking. 

He  gave  her  no  money  and  went  on.  How 
beautiful  the  world  was  and  the  morning! 
How  rosy  this  first  light  over  the  silvering 
stream!  How  grey  and  colossal  the  past, 
yonder,  of  that  dying,  sinking  city!  How 


222  THE  TOUR 

beautiful  and  impressive  were  every  form 
and  tint!  How  lovely  was  the  world! 
Even  the  people  down  there,  those  labourers, 
those  shepherdesses,  those  men  and  women 
baking,  had  a  calm,  rustic,  idyllic  beauty  in 
their  simplicity  and  naturalness.  How 
good  the  world  was  and  how  happy  people 
could  be,  if  the  gods  did  not  pour  grief  into 
their  hearts ! 

Grief!  Did  he  feel  grief?  Or  had  the 
mere  thought  that  Ilia  had  proved  unworthy 
of  his  great  love  already  cured  him  of  the 
disease  that  was  grief?  But  was  he  cured 
and  did  he  know  ? 

He  was  approaching  the  hamlet  of  Troia. 
And  he  remembered  reading  in  Thrasyllus' 
notes  that  Menelaus  had  come  past  here  with 
his  band  of  Trojan  captives  and  generously 
permitted  them  to  settle  here.  They  had 
founded  their  colony.  Behind  Troia  stood  a 
rocky  mountain-range;  and  behold,  there 
was  the  ancient  quarry  from  which,  years 
ago,  the  blocks  of  stone  were  hewn  to  build 
the  pyramids,  block  upon  block,  without  ce- 


THE  TOUR  223 

ment !  And  Lucius '  feet  rattled  through  the 
curious  fossils  which  strewed  the  ground  like 
pebbles  with  the  shapes  of  long  lentils  and 
pea-pods  and  which  were  thought  to  be  the 
petrified  remnants  of  the  meals  served  to  the 
many  thousand  slaves  who  had  worked  at 
the  pyramids. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  woman.  She  was  rest- 
ing, sitting  against  the  rocks  and  gazing  at 
the  rosy  sky.  He  recognised  his  slave,  the 
one  with  the  beautiful  voice,  the  singer, 
Cora. 

She  started  when  she  saw  him  and  rose 
and  bowed  low,  with  outstretched  hands : 

"Forgive  me,  my  lord,"  she  stammered, 
"for  straying  so  far  from  the  barge." 

He  reassured  her:  he  was  a  master  who 
did  not  grudge  his  slaves  a  liberty.  And  he 
asked  her,  in  a  kind  voice : 

"Why  did  you  stray  so  f ar  ?" 

"I  strayed  without  intending  it,  my  lord. 
My  thoughts  carried  me  along!" 

* '  What  were  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"I  was  thinking  of  Cos,  my  dear  birth- 


224  THE  TOUR 

place,  and  whether  I  should  ever  see  it 
again." 

"It  is  the  birthplace  of  Apelles  the  painter 
and  of  Epicharmus  the  poet-philosopher  and 
inventor  of  comedy.  It  is  a  place  of  beauty 
and  art,  is  it  not,  Cora?" 

"It  is  like  a  most  charming  garden,  my 
lord.  It  contains  the  temples  of  ^Esculapius 
and  Aphrodite.  I  was  born  there  in  the 
slave-school.  I  had  a  delightful  childhood. 
There  was  a  big  garden  in  which  I  used  to 
play  .  .  .  Forgive  me,  my  lord.  ,  .  ." 

"Goon." 

"I  was  trained  there  and  tended.  I  was 
bathed  and  carefully  anointed  and  rubbed. 
This  was  done  by  the  negresses.  I  learned 
to  dance  when  I  was  very  young.  That  is 
why  I  am  lithe,  my  lord ;  and  I  hope  that  I 
dance  well.  But  I  also  loved  music ;  I  sang. 
We  had  masters,  who  taught  us  to  sing  and 
play  the  harp  and  mistresses,  who  taught  us 
to  dance.  Dryope,  who  was  in  charge  of  the 
slave-school,  was  stern,  but  she  was  not  un- 
kind. My  parents  also  were  her  slaves. 


THE  TOUR  225 

My  father  was  a  runner  and  my  mother  was 
a  dancer  too.  There  were  wagers  when  my 
father  ran  in  a  race;  and  he  but  seldom 
failed  to  win  the  prize  for  our-mistress.  She 
would  have  him  flogged  when  he  did  not  win 
the  prize,  but  not  hard,  for  she  did  not  want 
to  injure  his  precious  body.  Dryope  was  a 
good  mistress  to  us,  for  my  mother  stopped 
dancing  after  she  had  once  sprained  her  foot 
and  Dryope  nevertheless  remained  kind  and 
gentle  to  her  slave.  But,  when  I  was  able 
to  sing  and  dance,  my  lord,  Dryope  sold  me 
for  a  big  sum  to  a  slave-dealer  who  was  going 
to  Borne  with  a  number  of  slaves,  male  and 
female.  I  embraced  Dryope  and  my  parents 
and  went  with  the  dealer.  He  also  was  not 
harsh  to  me,  because  I  was  a  valuable  slave, 
my  lord ;  he  was  not  harsh  to  his  slaves ;  he 
was  careful  of  them  as  of  precious  mer- 
chandise. Thrasyllus  bought  me  for  you, 
my  lord,  on  the  slave-market  in  Rome ;  and 
I  was  proud  when  he  paid  a  big  sum  for  me 
after  hearing  my  trial  song  and  seeing  my 
trial  dance.  And  now  .  .  .  now  I  am  happy, 


226  THE  TOUR 

my  lord,  to  belong  to  a  master  like  yourself. 
But  still  my  thoughts  often  wander  to  Cos, 
to  the  slaves'  quarters,  to  my  parents,  to  my 
fellow-slaves  there  and  to  Dryope.  Forgive 
me,  my  lord." 

"And  would  you  like  to  go  back  to  Cos, 
Cora?" 

"My  lord,  our  native  land  remains  dear  to 
us.  But  I  belong  to  you ;  and  where  you  are 
there  I  will  be." 

"And  will  you  be  happy  there  too,  Cora, 
so  far  from  Cos?" 

"I  shall  be  happy  where  you  are  happy, 
my  lord,  and  unhappy  where  you  are  un- 
happy." 

Lucius  looked  at  her.  He  did  not  take  her 
words  to  be  more  than  the  politeness  of  a 
courteous  slave,  who  came  from  a  famous 
slave-school  and  for  whom  he  had  paid  a 
high  price,  because  of  her  delicate  beauty 
and  her  accomplishments.  But  still  the 
sound  of  Cora's  voice  was  pleasant  to  his 
ear;  and  he  said,  graciously  and  with  a 
gentle  smile : 


THE  TOUR  227 

"You  know  how  to  speak  the  word  that 
sounds  well,  even  as  you  sing  true  and  play 
true." 

She  made  no  further  answer  and  bowed 
her  head,  feeling  that  he  did  not  count  her 
word  as  more  than  a  well-sounding  word : 

"Have  I  your  permission,  my  lord,  to  go 
back  to  the  barge  I"  she  asked. 

"  Yes, "  he  said,"  go. " 

She  made  a  gesture  of  graceful  reverence 
and  moved  away.  He  followed  her  at  a  di- 
stance. She  walked  along  by  the  tall  reeds  of 
the  river.  She  was  very  pretty  and  dainty, 
like  the  soft-tinted  statuettes  that  came  from 
Tanagra.  Her  flowered  muslin  peplos  hung 
limply  pleated  around  her  shapely  body  in  a 
succession  of  thin  folds,  which  blew  open  and 
shut.  Her  bare  arms  were  very  slender. 
Her  blue-black  hair  was  fine  and  caught 
golden  gleams.  Now,  while  she  stopped  to 
pluck  a  flowering  red,  she  stood  among  the 
stems  like  a  nymph. 

And  Lucius  smiled  because  she  was  so  very 
pretty,  so  tenderly  winsome,  because  she 


228  THE  TOUR, 

sang  and  played  the  harp  so  very  beautifully 
and  because  she  said  such  civil  words  and 
had  spoken  so  charmingly  of  her  native 
island.  Cos,  where  she  was  born  in  Dryope's 
slave-school. 


CHAPTER  XX 

UNCLE  CATULLUS  lay  under  the 
awning  of  the  thalamegus  and  asked 
Cora  to  come  and  sit  by  him : 
"Sing  and  play  me  some  cheerful  songs, 
Cora, ' '  he  said.  *  *  Be  kind  to  me  even  though 
I  be  not  your  master.  For  I  feel  bored  here, 
on  this  Nile  boat,  at  Memphis.  I  have  been 
bored  ever  since  Lucius  went  to  the  oracle 
of  Ammon,  through  the  barren  desert. 
What  an  idea,  what  a  mad  idea !  They  have 
been  gone  five  days  now ;  they  will  probably 
arrive  to-morrow.  ...  I  am  bored,  Cora, 
I  am  horribly  bored.  Egypt  will  be  the 
death  of  me !  First  I  am  saturated  with  new 
impressions,  like  a  sponge  with  water,  and 
then  Lucius  abandons  me  to  unlimited  bore- 
dom. He's  an  egoist ;  he  never  thinks  of  his 
old  uncle.  .  .  .  Cora,  be  amiable  to  me  and 
sing  and  play  me  some  cheerful  songs,  won't 
you?" 

220 


230  THE  TOUR 

This  was  the  burden  of  Uncle  Catullus' 
complaint.  As  he  said,  Lucius  had  gone 
through  the  desert  to  the  oracle  of  Ammon, 
with  Caleb,  Thrasyllus  and  Tarrar,  with 
guards  and  drivers,  and  Uncle  Catullus  had 
remained  behind  on  the  barge,  under  the 
care  of  Rufus  the  under-steward,  with  all 
the  other  slaves,  male  and  female. 

A  track  led  from  Memphis  through  the 
desert  to  the  oasis  where  the  oracle  of  Am- 
mon resided.  It  ran  through  the  sands 
marked  with  granite  posts,  like  small  obe- 
lisks, nothing  more.  It  was  a  chain  of  sign- 
posts rather  than  a  road.  The  summer  sun 
beat  down  implacably  upon  the  scorching 
sands,  which  lay  blown  against  the  rocky 
range  of  mountains  along  the  south  of  which 
the  road  was  traced. 

The  caravan  had  now  been  travelling  five 
days  through  the  sands.  Lucius,  on  an  ele- 
phant, lay  in  a  spacious,  square  litter,  with 
blue-and-yellow  curtains  to  keep  out  the 
light,  and  had  expressed  a  wish  that  Thra- 
syllus should  sit  by  his  side.  Caleb,  swathed 


THE  TOUR  231 

in  white  muslin,  which  left  only  his  gleaming 
eyes  and  flashing  teeth  visible,  sat  upon  a 
powerful  dromedary,  on  leather  cushions, 
under  a  great  parasol  fixed  to  his  saddle- 
gear  and  occasionally  swaying  gently  to  and 
fro.  Elephant  and  dromedary  were  sur- 
rounded with  long  fly-nets,  from  which 
dangled  many-coloured  fringes.  Tarrar, 
also  swathed  in  linens  of  many  colours, 
squatted  like  a  little  monkey  on  a  camel  and 
defied  the  sun  of  his  native  land,  the  glare  of 
his  Libyan  desert.  The  guards  and  drivers 
rode  mules;  and  ponies  carried  the  travel- 
lers' luggage,  their  tents,  their  provisions 
and  their  still  swollen  water-bags. 

For  five  days  now  they  had  been  marching 
on  their  monotonous  journey  through  the 
desert.  At  break  of  day  the  caravan 
started ;  at  noon  a  halt  was  made  under  the 
tents;  in  the  evening  the  procession  moved 
on  again,  until  darkness  and  fatigue  urged 
the  travellers  to  rest.  It  was  an  endless 
journey.  It  seemed  as  if  the  goal  would 
never  be  reached.  It  was  an  unrelieved 


232  THE  TOUR 

alternation  of  gold-glittering  sands,  under 
implacable,  blazing  skies,  and  fading  sands, 
under  endless  skies  of  nocturnal  blue.  It 
was  an  unrelieved  alternation  of  rosy  sun- 
rises and  orange  sunsets.  It  was  an  unre- 
lieved alternation  of  the  peeping,  the  radiant 
awakening  and  the  duller  waning  of  the 
stars.  Sometimes  the  south  wind  rose  and 
blew  for  hours.  Silently  the  caravan 
plodded  through  the  rising  whirls  of  sand. 
Sometimes  the  faint  track  of  posts  seemed 
to  have  disappeared;  the  obelisks  stood 
aslant,  sunk  into  the  sands.  A  melancholy 
descended  over  man  and  beast. 

The  midday  meal,  taken  under  a  tent, 
Lucius  shared  with  Thrasyllus,  Caleb  and 
Tarrar.  It  consisted  always  of  broiled 
mutton,  dates  and  an  unvarying  ration  of 
water,  with  a  dash  of  palm-wine  in  it. 
Strange  to  say,  Lucius  was  almost  cheerful 
and  declared  that  Uncle  Catullus  had  done 
well  not  to  accompany  them  to  the  oasis  of 
Ammon,  as  such  meals  would  certainly  have 
been  a  sore  trial  for  him.  And,  strange 


THE  TOUR  233 

again,  Caleb,  usually  so  merry  and  cheerful, 
became  despondent  and  sad.  At  least,  he 
exclaimed,  now  that  Lucius  began  to  jest : 

"I  wonder,  my  lord,  that  you  can  be  gay  in 
these  god-forsaken  Libyan  sands!  They 
weigh  upon  my  chest,  O  my  lord,  as  though  I 
were  already  sinking  under  them,  like  the 
obelisks  and  sphinxes !  O  my  noble  lord,  O 
my  princely  lord,  what  a  desperate  idea  of 
your  lordship's  to  wish  to  undertake  this 
awful  journey,  to  wish  to  go  to  the  oracle  of 
Ammon,  which  is  quite  ruined  and  deserted, 
whither  perhaps  for  two  centuries  past  no 
noble  lord  like  your  lordship  has  ever 
travelled!  O  my  lord,  O  my  lord,  if  only 
this  horrible  journey  ends  well!  The 
drivers  and  guards  are  not  yet  complaining ; 
there  is  still  water  in  the  bags  for  men  and 
beasts;  we  have  not  yet  experienced  any 
other  adventure  beyond  the  appearance  of 
one  lion,  who  stood  proudly  on  the  point  of  a 
rock  but  fled  when  he  saw  my  burnous  flap- 
ping in  the  distance,  while  our  hunters  tried 
to  shoot  him  with  poisoned  arrows.  But,  my 


234  THE  TOUR 

lord,  if  more  lions  appear,  or  if  robbers  sud- 
denly come  in  sight,  or  if  those  terrible 
ghosts  loom  up:  the  sphinxes  with  the  hu- 
man heads  and  the  giants  with  faces  of  ani- 
mals, which,  people  say,  fill  the  desert ;  or  if 
we  meet  the  giant  snake,  who  has  a  forest 
growing  on  his  back  and  who  makes  his  nest 
underground  and  who,  when  hungry,  bores 
his  terrible  body  right  through  the  earth's 
flat  disk  and  swallows  towns  and  villages,  O 
my  lord,  then  I  doubt,  alas,  whether  my  flap- 
ping burnous  and  the  bows  and  arrows  of 
our  hunters  and  guards  will  save  us !  O  my 
lord,  O  my  gracious,  noble  lord,  shall  I  ever 
see  Saba  again,  my  dear  country  blessed  by 
the  gods!" 

Thus  ran  Caleb's  complaint;  but  Lucius 
said: 

"Tarrar  is  seeing  his  country  again, 
aren't  you,  Tarrar?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  little  slave,  "but 
I  come  from  the  sea-coast,  not  from  the 
desert,  and  I  was  not  happy  in  my  country 
and  my  parents  gave  me  no  food  to  eat  and 


THE  TOUR  235 

the  country  is  not  beautiful  either,  as  Saba 
is,  and  I  would  much  'rather  be  with  you,  in 
Home,  for  that  is  the  loveliest  country  in  the 
world,  and  in  your  house,  which  is  the  love- 
liest house  in  the  world." 

After  the  midday  rest  the  journey  was 
resumed  and  the  sun  sank  slowly:  the  sky 
was  like  a  glowing  copper  dome,  which 
dulled  and  cooled;  and  the  stars  came  out; 
and  over  the  rocky  crests  that  rose  on  ridges 
along  the  road  appeared  the  flying  figures  of 
wild  animals.  Startling  roars  sounded  in 
the  night,  to  the  great  alarm  of  Caleb,  who 
said  that  he  did  not  mind  lions  or  hyenas  but 
that  he  was  afraid  of  the  giants  and  the 
colossal  snake  and  the  ghosts  of  the  desert, 
which  lured  travellers  to  the  magic  cities 
which  are  nothing  but  hallucination,  en- 
chantment and  destruction.  And  all  the 
drivers  and  guards,  sturdy  Libyans  and 
Arabs,  were  like  him  and  said  that  they 
did  not  fear  the  tangible  lions  and  would 
hunt  them  if  need  be,  but  that  they  did  fear 
the  intangible  lions  of  the  desert,  all  the 


236  THE  TOUR 

haunting,  shadowy  visions  of  wrath  with 
which  Typhon  lures  the  caravans  into  Hell. 

Then  great  fires  were  kindled,  to  ward  off 
the  lions  and  the  ghosts ;  and  they  glowed  in 
the  still  glowing  night;  and  the  guards  and 
drivers  danced  fantastic  dances  round  the 
fires :  and  Caleb,  to  forget  his  alarm,  joined 
in  the  dance. 

But  Thrasyllus  told  his  master  about 
Alexander  the  Great.  When  Alexander 
founded  Alexandria,  the  oracle  of  Ammon 
was  the  most  celebrated  in  Egypt ;  and  Cal- 
listhenes  and  Plutarch  relate  how  the  great 
Macedonian  started  from  ParaBtonium,  on 
the  coast,  to  make  his  way  through  the  desert 
by  way  of  the  oasis.  Violent  south-winds 
attacked  his  retinue ;  but  he  did  not  give  in, 
though  sand-storms  nearly  swallowed  him 
up,  with  his  elephants  and  camels.  Sud- 
denly, however,  kindly  showers  fell,  at  the 
bidding  of  the  gods,  and  the  winds  abated 
and  the  sand-storms  dropped.  Two  crows 
flew  beside  the  great  Alexander  and  guided 
him  to  the  oasis. 


THE  TOUR  237 

At  the  first  ray  of  dawn,  after  a  refreshing 
sleep  the  journey  was  resumed,  the  mono- 
tonous journey,  the  endless  journey.  It  was 
the  last  day  but  one ;  and,  when  the  halt  was 
called,  it  appeared  that  the  drivers  and 
guards  had  cut  open  the  water-bags  and 
drunk  their  fill  of  the  water.  Caleb  grew 
furious  and  instantly  drew  his  dagger  and 
wanted  to  fling  himself  on  the  Libyans  and 
Arabs ;  but  they  also  drew  their  daggers  and 
everybody  shouted  and  screamed  and  yelled. 
Then  Lucius  intervened  and  quieted  them  all 
and  gave  them  money ;  and  they  fell  on  their 
knees  and  sobbed  and  begged  his  pardon  for 
drinking  up  the  water,  but  they  had  been  so 
thirsty  and  they  accused  Caleb  of  being  too 
sparing  with  the  ration.  And  Caleb  de- 
fended himself  and  said  that  in  the  desert 
one  had  to  be  sparing  and  not  gulp  down 
all  the  water  at  once,  without  thinking  of  the 
morrow,  of  the  animals  and  of  the  noble  lord, 
who  now  had  not  a  drop  of  water  left.  But 
the  noble  lord  caused  a  heavy  basket  full  of 
lemons  to  be  let  down  from  his  elephant  and 


238  THE  TOUR 

gave  each  of  the  guards  and  drivers  one 
lemon  and  told  them  that  they  must  now  hold 
out,  by  sucking  this  lemon,  until  they 
reached  the  oasis.  And  they  kissed  his 
hands  and  abased  themselves  before  him  and 
caressed  his  legs  and  called  him  Osiris  and 
Serapis  and  Ammon-Ra  and  their  life's 
benefactor. 

Men  and  animals  were  exhausted,  but  they 
allowed  themselves  hardly  any  rest  that 
night  and  no  one  slept  and  all  wanted  to  go 
on,  ever  on,  in  the  last  spurring  of  their  en- 
ergies. 

Was  it,  after  the  sleepless  night,  because 
of  that  exhaustion  and  that  last  spurring, 
an  atmospheric  phenomenon,  an  hallucina- 
tion, an  illusion,  a  fata  morgana?  In  the 
first  rosy  glimers  of  the  dawn,  reflected  from 
the  east  to  the  west,  there  rose  in  the  west 
as  it  were  a  dream,  a  nebulous  dream- vision 
of  unsubstantial  forms,  the  vague  paradisial 
vision  of  barely-outlined,  rose-tinted  trees, 
slender,  shadowy  trunks  and  palm-crowns 
suffused  in  rosy  light ;  and  then  the  straight 


THE  TOUR  239 

lines,  no  more  than  an  azure  shadow,  of 
walls,  of  roofs,  terraces,  domes. 

Was  it  a  vision,  was  it  a  dream  $  No,  it 
was  real;  and  Caleb  jubilantly  pointed  and 
shouted : 

"Ammon-Ra!    Ammon-Ra!" 

'  l  Ammon-Ra !  Ammon-Ra ! ' '  repeated 
the  guards  and  drivers,  yelling  wildly  and 
cheering  like  madmen,  for  the  oasis  took 
colour,  the  trees  became  more  clearly  marked 
and  the  temple,  large  as  a  town,  now 
stretched  its  walls  impressively. 

The  horses  sniffed  the  air  and  neighed, 
the  elephants  waved  their  trunks,  the  camels 
swung  out  their  legs,  men  thrust  forward 
their  throats  and  inhaled  the  fragrance  of 
verdure  and  the  coolness  of  running  wells; 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  oasis,  poor  natives 
in  the  service  of  the  priests  of  the  temple, 
poured  out  of  their  huts  to  meet  the  caravan 
and  knelt  in  the  road,  offering  split  coco- 
nuts, juicy  oranges  and  scarlet  fruits,  of 
strange  shapes  and  juicy  pulp,  and  earthen- 
ware dishes  full  of  water  limpid  as  flowing 
crystal. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THERE  was  a  dense  wood  of  palm- 
trees  through  which  the  travellers 
made  their  way  to  the  temple  of  Am- 
mon-Ra,  whose  walls  lay  spread  like  a 
town. 

"See,  my  lord,"  said  Caleb,  walking  ahead 
and  pointing,  "these  are  male  palm-trees; 
and  those  more  slender  ones  are  female ;  and 
they  marry  one  another,  my  lord,  and  feel 
love  for  one  another ;  they  grow  towards  one 
another,  see,  my  lord,  like  these  two;  and 
they  wave  to  one  another  and  the  male 
fructifies  the  female;  and  it  is  only  when 
they  love  each  other  that  the  fruits  are 
luxuriant  and  their  honey  and  wine  pleasant 
to  the  taste." 

"It  is  as  Caleb  says,"  Tarrar  assented. 
"The  palm-trees  in  my  country  marry  one 
another  and  they  are  the  most  excellent  in 
the  whole  world." 

240 


THE  TOUR  241 

"They  also  marry  in  Saba,"  said  Caleb, 
in  pique.  "We  have  sweeter  honey  and 
date-wine  in  Saba  than  you  have  here  in 
Libya." 

A  heated  discussion  arose  between  Caleb 
and  Tarrar  upon  the  respective  merits  of 
the  Sabaean  and  Libyan  palm-trees.  But 
the  travellers  were  now  entering  the  first 
gate  of  the  temple. 

There  was  a  triple  row  of  walls  round  the 
old  sanctuary,  but  they  were  falling  into 
ruins,  the  obelisks  were  sinking  away,  the 
sphinxes  were  covered  with  luxuriant,  flow- 
ering creepers,  tall  grasses  shot  up  between 
the  flag-stones  of  the  dromos  and  all  the 
doors  were  open.  There  was  a  deep  shade 
from  the  leafy  tops  of  the  turpentine-trees, 
which  were  fragrant  with  heavy  perfumes 
in  the  sunshine.  The  fleshy  agaves  and 
aloes  drove  their  sword-like  leaves  over  the 
walls;  and  their  long  stalks  blossomed  with 
huge  scarlet  flowers  which  smoked  as  though 
with  incense.  But  it  was  above  all  the 
daturas  whose  pendant  alabaster  goblets 


242  THE  TOUR 

poured  forth  a  giddiness,  an  intoxication  of 
heavy  scents,  around  which  the  great  Atlas 
moths  flew  slowly  hovering. 

There  were  no  door-keepers;  and  the 
travellers  walked  on,  through  the  endless 
dromos.  The  monolithic  colossi  rose  on 
either  hand;  but  they  also  were  shelving  to 
one  side,  or  sinking  away.  Lastly,  from  out 
of  the  vista  of  the  pylons,  which  stood  in 
endless  row  after  row,  a  group  of  priests  ap- 
proached the  travellers.  It  was  the  high- 
priest  of  Ammon-Ra,  accompanied  by  eleven 
other  priests ;  and  they  were  all  very  old  and 
grey.  They  all  had  grey  locks  and  they  all 
wore  long,  grey  beards.  They  all  wore  long, 
fiery  red  robes ;  and,  when  they  drew  near  in 
procession,  they  were  like  gods  in  their 
placid  dignity. 

They  did  not  wish  to  betray  their  surprise 
to  the  travellers.  The  oracle  of  Ammon  was 
no  longer  visited  as  it  had  been  visited  two 
centuries  ago.  It  was  no  longer  held  in 
honour;  the  temple  was  fallen  into  decay; 
summers  would  pass  without  the  advent  of 


THE  TOUR  243 

a  single  pilgrim.  But  Lucius  had  wanted 
to  consult  the  oracle  of  Ammon  just  because 
its  historic  past  gave  it  a  poetic  charm  for 
him.  And,  when  he  saw  the  high-priest  ap- 
proach, he  stretched  out  his  hands  in  reve- 
rence to  the  ground  and  knelt  and  bowed 
his  head ;  and  Thrasyllus,  Caleb  and  Tarrar 
knelt  and  bowed  behind  him. 

1  'What  do  you  seek,  my  son?"  asked  the 
centenarian  high-priest. 

"The  truth,"  replied  Lucius. 

"Then  enter  into  the  House  of  the  Sun," 
the  high-priest  ordained. 

And  the  travellers  rose;  and  the  priests 
gladly  led  the  way.  They  led  their  visitors 
through  the  pronaos  and  naos  to  the  secos, 
to  the  holy  of  holies.  And,  pointing  in  the 
golden  shade  of  mid-day  dusk,  between 
pillars  like  tree-trunks,  to  the  enormous 
statue  of  Ammon-Ra,  old  as  time,  the  sun- 
god  with  the  bull's  head,  the  high-priest  con- 
tinued : 

"The  Sun  reveals  the  truth  to  him  who  is 
worthy  to  hear  it,  even  as  ages  ago  it  re- 


244  THE  TOUR 

vealed  the  truth  to  Alexander  of  Macedon. 
Before  his  coming,  the  deity  uttered  himself 
only  by  moving  his  brows  and  wrinkling  his 
bull  forehead  between  his  divine  horns. 
But  the  deity  addressed  Alexander  of  Mace- 
don with  the  sound  of  his  lowing  voice  and 
told  him,  in  words  plainly  audible  to  the 
king  and  all  his  following,  that  he  was  the 
son  of  the  Sun,  the  son  of  Jupiter  Amraon- 
Ra." 

Lucius  looked  up  at  the  statue.  In  the 
golden  twilight  of  the  temple,  where  the 
noontide  daylight  filtered  in  and  broke 
between  the  pillars  in  a  shimmer  of  dust, 
he  saw  the  supreme  god,  who  was  no  longer 
held  in  honour,  wrapped  in  shadow,  paint- 
less  wood  and  colourless  basalt,  blind  and 
pock-pitted  where  his  bull  head  and  his 
human  neck  had  been  robbed  of  the  jewelled 
eyes  and  the  precious  stones  with  which  he 
had  once  been  inlaid.  And  Lucius  felt  so 
deep  a  compassion  within  himself  for  the 
fading  god,  once  all-honoured  and  now  for- 
gotten in  his  distant,  sinking  temple  in  the 


THE  TOUR  245 

Libyan  desert,  that  he  bent  his  knees  in  pity 
and  reverence. 

The  Jewish  seer,  who  lived  in  the  cave  of 
Neith,  had  haply  seen  the  new  god,  the  Son 
of  Jahve,  crowned  with  light  for  days  and 
days.  Here,  in  the  immensity  of  his  ruined 
sanctuary,  Lucius  beheld  the  fading  of  the 
god  who  was  forgotten,  but  whom,  centuries 
ago,  Alexander  of  Macedon  had  travelled 
through  whirlwinds  and  sand-storms  to  seek. 

When  Lucius  looked  up,  he  was  alone  with 
the  old  high-priest : 

" Father,"  he  said,  kneeling,  "I  would 
know  the  truth.  I  would  know  if  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  truth,  revealed  to  me  by 
oracle  after  oracle,  is  the  truth  to  Jupiter 
Ammon-Ra." 

"My  son,"  said  the  priest,  "the  truth  does 
not  shine  forth  until  after  meditation,  after 
contemplation  and  pious  prayers,  after  days 
and  nights  of  communing  with  the  deity.  I 
will  be  your  intermediary.  And  you  shall 
know  what  you  would  know,  if  you  have 
faith." 


246  THE  TOUR 

" Father,"  said  Lucius,  "I  lay  my  fore- 
head, heavy  with  care  and  suffering  and 
doubt,  in  your  holy  hands." 

And  he  bowed  his  head  towards  the 
priest's  open  palms. 

He  remained  five  days  and  nights  together 
with  the  priest.  In  the  temple,  the  golden 
shadows  of  the  day  changed  into  the  blue 
shadows  of  the  night  and  the  glittering  of 
the  sun  into  the  flickering  of  the  lamps. 
There  was  prayer  and  fasting  and  the  touch 
of  soul  to  soul. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AFTER  five  days  and  nights,  Lucius 
knew.  Pale,  tired  and  enlightened, 
he  sought  out  his  followers,  Thra- 
syllus,  Caleb  and  Tarrar,  who  were  staying 
in  the  great,  cavernous  rooms  of  the  temple. 
And  he  was  calm,  peaceful  and  dignified. 
He  bathed  and  ate  and  slept.  And  at  night, 
in  the  silence  of  the  temple-grounds,  which 
wove  itself  with  the  golden  gleam  of  the  stars 
into  a  single  mystic  atmosphere,  he  woke 
Tarrar  and  said : 

"Take  this  sycamore  box." 

It  was  a  small  casket  of  delicate  work- 
manship, which  had  always  accompanied 
him  wherever  he  went. 

Tarrar,  heavy  with  sleep,  took  up  the  little 
box. 

"Follow  me/'  said  Lucius. 

The  little  slave,  in  astonishment,  followed 
his  master.  Lucius  passed  through  the 

247 


248  THE  TOUR 

shadow-haunted  temple-precincts,  which 
stretched  endlessly  in  every  direction.  He 
went  through  the  parks,  which  were  haunted 
with  sphinxes  and  obelisks  and  thick  with 
the  sultry  heat  of  datura-scent.  He  went 
through  the  whole  oasis,  under  the  grove  of 
palm-trees  and  by  the  huts  of  the  natives. 

Tarrar  followed  him.  The  little  slave 
felt,  inquisitively,  that  the  sycamore  casket 
was  not  locked.  He  opened  it  for  an  in- 
stant ;  and  by  the  flickering  starlight  Tarrar 
saw  a  small  woman's  sandal,  which  he  knew. 
The  little  slave  wondered  and  wondered. 
But  he  continued  to  follow  his  master,  faith- 
fully; he  would  have  followed  him  to  the 
death. 

They  came  to  the  desert.  The  master 
entered  the  desert;  and  Tarrar  continued  to 
wonder.  The  starry  night  now  spread  its 
dome  over  their  heads ;  the  silvery  sands  lay 
outstretched  before  him. 

"Dig,"  Lucius  commanded,  suddenly 
turning  round. 

Tarrar  gave  a  start.    He  put  down  the 


THE  TOUR  249 

casket  in  the  sand  and  dug  a  hole  with  his 
hands. 

" Deeper,"  Lucius  commanded.  "Dig 
deeper." 

The  little  slave  dug ;  quickly,  like  a  little 
monkey,  he  dug  the  hole  deep  with  his  two 
hands. 

"Put  the  casket  in  the  hole,"  Lucius 
commanded. 

Tarrar  did  so  and  looked  at  his  master. 

"Cover  the  casket  up  with  sand." 

Tarrar  did  as  his  master  commanded. 
Then  Lucius  said : 

* '  Now  come  back. ' ' 

And  he  went  back  to  the  oasis ;  but  Tarrar, 
before  following  him,  stamped  down  the 
sand  under  which  the  casket  lay  buried  and 
overwhelmed  it,  amid  violent  gestures  of 
delight,  with  native  curses,  curses  not  to  be 
averted,  in  the  Libyan  tongue. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  travellers  had  returned  to  Mem- 
phis and  Caleb  displayed  the  skin  of 
a  lion  which  had  been  shot  in  the  de- 
sert and  told  the  people  in  the  thalamegus 
terrible  tales  of  desert  ghosts  and  dread  vis- 
ions. The  barge  was  now  gliding  up  the 
Nile  in  the  night;  the  sky  was  softly  blue, 
like  dark  byssus ;  the  water  was  a  pale  blue, 
like  rippling  silk;  and  the  waning  moon 
hung  above  the  palm-clusters  and  country- 
mansions  on  the  river-bank  like  a  great, 
overripe  fruit  which  threatened  to  burst  in 
the  sky  and  whose  juice  was  already  trick- 
ling in  thick  orange  drops  that  flowed  far 
over  the  Nile. 

And,  while  the  rowers'  monotonous  chant 
resounded  with  the  regular  beat  of  the  oars, 
Thrasyllus,  sitting  beside  Lucius,  gave  way 
to  melancholy  and  said : 

"  Egypt  is  Egypt  no  longer.  Alexandria 
is  a  commercial  town ;  Memphis  is  a  decaying 

250 


THE  TOUR  251 

greatness ;  and  the  priests  are  venal  and  no 
longer  know  the  Hermetic  wisdom.  I  have 
sought  for  five  days  among  the  dusty  papyri 
of  the  neglected  library  in  the  temple  of 
Ammon;  it  is  as  though  all  that  is  worth 
knowing  were  hiding  iteelf . ' ' 

"The  priests  must  be  hiding  the  Hermetic 
wisdom  on  purpose,"  said  Lucius. 

"They  used  to  do  so  in  other  days  for 
Plato  and  Pythagoras,  when  their  souls 
were  lofty  and  incorruptible.  Nowadays 
they  show  what  they  have  and  tell  what  they 
know  for  money.  But  what  they  have  is  not 
more  than  we  in  Rome  possess  in  the  temple 
of  Isis ;  and  what  they  know  is  not  the  key  to 
happiness.  And  yet  .  .  .  and  yet  I  believe 
in  a  sacred  word,  handed  down  in  the 
wisdom  of  the  Kabbala,  by  word  of  mouth, 
from  father  to  son.  But  I  have  not  yet 
received  it  from  any  priest,  neither  at 
Memphis  nor  in  the  oasis.  And  yet  I  have 
hopes.  There  is  Thebes;  and  there  are  the 
secrets  of  Ethiopia  .  .  .  down  to  the  pillars 
of  Sesostris." 


252  THE  TOUR 

Lucius  smiled  gently : 

"The  word,"  lie  said,  "the  secret  of  happi- 
ness. .  .  .  Thrasyllus,  is  happiness  not  an 
illusion  of  the  brain?  Does  happiness  not 
lie  in  resigning  one's  self  piously  to  one's 
fate  and  is  the  secret  word  not  the  proud 
'Be  a  god  unto  yourself  ?" 

The  old  man  started.    And  he  whispered : 

"You  also?  Have  you  also  heard  that 
word,  as  I  heard  it  at  Sais  ?  I  took  no  ac- 
count of  it,  it  did  not  satisfy  me." 

"It  satisfied  me  in  the  oasis,  because  it  is 
a  proud,  strong  word  and  I  have  needed 
pride  and  strength  .  .  .  since  I  have  known, 
Thrasyllus." 

* '  Known  what,  Lucius  ? ' ' 

"That  Carus  stole  Ilia  from  me." 

The  old  man  started  violently  : 

"You  know?"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
know  ?  Who  told  you  ?  Who  betrayed  the 
secret?" 

"The  voice  itself  within  my  own  soul, 
which  the  oracles  caused  to  speak  to  me. 
My  own  thoughts,  tossing  this  way  and  that, 


THE  TOUR  253 

which  the  oracles  guided.  From  the  sibyl 
of  Rhaeotis,  who  merely  guessed  my  own 
thoughts,  down  to  the  old  high-priest  of 
Ammon-Ra,  who  spoke  to  me  like  a 
father  .  .  .  and  who  said  to  me  the  word, 
'Be  a  god  unto  yourself!'  " 

"As  Nemu-Pha  said  to  me,  at  Sais.  I 
paid  for  it  in  gold." 

"I  paid  for  it  in  gold,  in  the  oasis.  But 
what  does  that  matter,  Thrasyllus?  The 
word  gave  me  strength  and  pride." 

"O  my  son,  if  you  could  be  cured  of  your 
sorrow,  of  your  grief!" 

"They  are  no  longer  in  me.  I  no  longer 
have  any  grief,  no  longer  any  sorrow.  I  am 
a  god  unto  myself." 

"The  gods  suffer.  Isis  suffered  because 
of  Osiris.  All  the  gods  suffer." 

"I  suffer  no  longer.  My  grief  has  de- 
parted from  me.  The  world  and  life  are 
beautiful.  See,  the  colours  and  the  light  are 
beautiful.  The  sky  is  softly  blue,  like  dark 
byssus ;  the  water  ripples  like  blue  silk ;  and 
the  moon  is  like  a  great,  overripe  fruit  which 


254  THE  TOUR 

bursts  in  the  sky  and  whose  juice  trickles 
over  the  Nile.  To-morrow  the  day  will 
bring  another  beauty.  In  these  successive 
beauties,  Thrasyllus,  I  will  be  a  god  unto 
myself. " 

"O  my  son,  though  I  did  not  tell  you  the 
word  myself,  I  am  so  happy  that  you  your- 
self found  the  word !" 

In  the  night  there  sounded  the  high,  rising 
tones  of  a  harp,  followed  by  Cora's  crystal- 
clear  voice,  which  was  accompanied  by  other 
harps  and  other  voices. 

"The  word  of  pride,  the  word  of  strength, 
Thrasyllus,"  said  Lucius,  calmly;  and  the 
old  tutor  saw  a  tranquil  smile  on  his  young 
master's  face  as  he  added,  "The  word  that 
almost  makes  me  happy." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AFTER  the  abundant  dews  of  the 
night  came  the  delight  of  the  cool- 
warm  summer  day.  The  clustering 
trees  now  pressed  their  way  forward  more 
richly  and  luxuriously  along  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  Here,  on  the  Libyan  side,  lay  the 
town  of  Acanthus,  with  its  temple  of  Osiris 
in  a  spreading  wood  of  Theban  acanthus- 
trees,  of  which  the  natives  tap  the  fragrant 
gums.  Next,  on  the  Arabian  bank,  came 
Aphroditopolis,  the  second  town  of  the 
name,  with  the  temple  of  the  White  Cow; 
and  then  the  travellers  reached  the  Hera- 
cleotic  nome,  a  big  island  in  the  Nile, 
from  which  a  canal  cuts  through  the  Arsi- 
noic  nome,  the  most  fertile  in  the  whole 
country.  Here  and  here  alone  the  olive-tree 
flourished  in  dense,  silvery  woods ;  but  here 
also  there  twisted  and  twined,  in  close 

255 


256  THE  TOUR 

festoons,  the  vine-branches,  on  which  the 
grapes  were  beginning  to  swell;  here  the 
fruit-trees  bent  under  their  heavy  load  and 
the  orchards 'stretched;  here  the  sickles  of 
the  husbandmen  waved  through  the  abund- 
ant ears  of  corn.  Here  the  fat  soil  yielded 
wealth  and  prosperity ;  here  the  innumerable 
sheep  spread  in  a  wave  of  wool  over  the  hills, 
like  a  shadowy  white  sea.  Here,  between 
margins  of  sands,  Lake  Moeris  stretched 
exquisite  and  crystal-blue  to  the  horizon,  as 
it  were  a  sweet-water  inland  sea.  In  earlier 
ages,  the  ocean  must  have  extended  to  those 
margins  and  stolen  the  whole  northern  land 
of  Lower  Egypt,  that  gift  of  the  Nile,  as 
Herodotus  had  called  it  long  ago.  Here  the 
double  lotus-flowers  were  trained  to  blossom 
in  the  waters;  and  here  the  sacred  scarabs 
were  bred  and  worshipped  upon  the  white 
flowers. 

Lucius  would  wander  alone  of  a  morning, 
strolling  along  the  banks  of  the  lake.  It 
was  so  strangely  calm  here  and  so  divinely 
beautiful;  and  a  heaven-sent  consolation 


THE  TOUR  257 

filled  the  air.  These  were  the  regions  blest 
by  the  gods ;  and  it  pleased  Lucius  to  linger 
here.  The  thalamegus  lay  moored  under 
acanthus-trees;  the  flowering  reeds  shot  up 
to  a  man's  height  around  her.  And  every 
afternoon,  at  sunset,  Lucius,  sometimes 
accompanied  by  Thrasyllus,  sometimes 
alone,  walked  to  the  labyrinth. 

The  road  lay  along  the  water- works  of  the 
canal,  where  daily,  under  the  supervision 
of  the  engineers,  the  quantity  of  water  that 
flowed  in  and  out  of  the  lake  through  the 
canal  was  closely  gauged.  The  tilled  and  in- 
habited lands  around  Lake  Moeris,  large  as 
a  sea,  were  never  flooded.  If  the  Nile  in- 
creased, all  that  happened  was  that  the  blue 
crystal  mirror  of  the  lake  rose.  If  the  wa- 
ters of  the  river  fell,  then  those  of  the  lake 
filled  them  up,  by  careful  management  of  the 
sluices.  The  water  was  never  other  than  a 
benevolent  deity. 

Along  the  water- works  ran  the  road  to  the 
labyrinth.  In  the  sinking  glory  of  the  sun, 
in  blood-red  and  orange  splendours,  Lucius 


258  THE  TOUR 

saw  it  daily,  the  strange  Titantic  town  of 
monoliths,  the  linked  rows  of  palaces  and 
courts,  projecting  their  columns  endlessly, 
endlessly,  towards  the  sunlit  horizon. 
Orange  and  blood-red  gleams  glowed  over 
the  flat  stone  tables  of  the  roofs,  which  were 
not  higher  than  a  single  pillared  storey  and 
which  spread  out  their  immense  terrace  like 
a  paved  desert.  There  were  twenty  palaces, 
each  surrounded  by  twenty-seven  mono- 
lithic columns;  and  all  this  wondrous  arch- 
itecture of  past  centuries  was  without  a 
beam  of  wood,  was  without  cement  or 
masonry,  was  simply  stone  laid  upon  stone 
with  faultless  precision  and  column  hewn 
beside  column,  absolutely  circular,  each 
column  a  single  stone.  At  the  end  of  the 
palaces,  which  were  a  stadium  long,  rose  the 
square  pyramid,  the  tomb  of  the  builder, 
King  Amenemha. 

The  holy  place  was  guarded  by  priests, 
who  led  Lucius  through  the  halls  and  crypts. 
The  twenty  palaces  represented  the  former 
twenty  Egyptian  nomes,  or  provinces;  and 


THE  TOUR  259 

the  emissaries  of  each  province  used  to 
gather  with  their  priests  and  priestesses  in 
their  palace  or  court  and  offer  up  sacrifices 
and  discuss  great  questions  of  policy  or  local 
welfare.  But  nowadays  the  palaces  were 
deserted,  the  crypts  were  deserted  and  the 
priests  led  Lucius  along  endless,  deserted, 
winding  corridors  which  meandered  from 
palace  to  palace.  The  torches  smeared  the 
walls  with  blood-red  light,  smeared  the 
smooth  stone  walls  of  the  corridors  and  halls 
and  floors  and  ceilings,  stone  after  stone 
upon  stone  of  wonderful  dimensions  all  rest- 
ing one  upon  another  without  cement.  And 
to  Lucius  it  was  one  of  the  marvels  of  the 
world,  even  more  marvellous,  because  of  its 
sublime  human  architecture,  than  the  pyra- 
mids had  been. 

Travelling  on  camels  with  Uncle  Catullus 
and  a  great  retinue,  Lucius  went  a  hundred 
stadia  farther,  to  Arsinoe-Crocodilopolis. 
The  trees  flourished  more  richly,  more  luxu- 
riantly, like  a  richly-wooded  park  around 
the  travellers,  till  they  came  to  the  sacred 


260  THE  TOUR 

lake  where  the  sacred  crocodile,  named  Such, 
was  held  in  veneration. 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  "here's  an- 
other of  these  little  pets  which  are  kept  for 
the  edification  of  foreigners !" 

And  in  fact  the  priests  who  came  to  meet 
the  travellers  in  front  of  the  dromos  of  the 
sacred  lake,  surrounded  on  every  side  with 
pillars,  first  amiably  demanded  a  stater  a 
head  as  entrance-fee,  while  Caleb  of  course 
had  seen  to  a  supply  of  rich  provisions,  as 
an  offering  to  the  deity.  The  slaves  carried 
baskets  with  cakes,  roast  meats  and  jars  of 
hydromel. 

In  the  lake  lay  Such,  the  huge  monster; 
but  the  priests  had  tamed  the  terrible  deity : 
they  were  luring  him  from  the  middle  of  the 
lake,  where  his  temple  was,  to  the  bank,  be- 
cause some  Persian  visitors  happened  to 
have  arrived  before  Lucius  and  wished  to 
present  their  offerings.  On  the  edge  of  the 
lake  the  priests  took  Such  fearlessly  by  his 
terrible  jaws  and  made  him  swallow  the 
cakes  and  meat  and  wine  of  the  Persian 


THE  TOUR  261 

grandees,  who  were  greatly  diverted  and 
laughed  aloud. 

"They  must  be  great  noblemen,*'  said 
Caleb,  "and  are  going  from  the  pillars  of 
Sesostris  to  Alexandria,  even  as  you,  my  no- 
ble lords,  are  going  from  Alexandria  to  the 
pillars  of  Sesostris.  My  lord,  if  you  permit 
me,  I  should  much  like  to  exchange  a  few 
words  with  the  guide  of  the  Persian  lords." 

Lucius  gave  his  permission ;  and  the  croco- 
dile, who  had  swallowed  his  Persian  pre- 
sents, swam  back  to  the  middle  of  the  lake. 
But  the  priests  now  quickly  lured  him  to  the 
other  side,  where  Lucius  was  waiting;  and 
the  ever  greedy  crocodile  approached;  and 
the  priests  again  took  him  fearlessly  by  his 
terrible  jaws  and  the  monster  now  swallowed 
Lucius'  gifts,  the  cakes,  the  roast  meat,  as 
though  insatiable;  and  the  priests,  laugh- 
ing, emptied  a  jar  of  hydromel  into  his 
maw. 

Meanwhile,  Caleb,  after  a  few  words  with 
the  guide,  had  sunk  in  salaams  before  the 
Persian  lords. 


262  THE  TOUR 

1  'He's  offering  the  Persians  his  diverso- 
rium,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  jestingly. 

And  in  fact  Caleb,  in  a  few  minutes,  came 
back  happy  and  swaggering  to  his  own 
travellers  and  said,  in  a  mysterious  whisper : 

"I  have  recommended  their  Persian  lord- 
ships to  be  sure  to  stop  at  the  Hermes  House 
at  Alexandria  and  I  slipped  a  gold  ptolemy 
into  their  guide's  hand.  Yes,  my  lords, 
business  is  business ;  and,  if  we  did  no  busi- 
ness at  Alexandria,  I  could  never  hope  to  see 
my  beloved  Saba  again.  For  there  you 
must  have  done  business,  if  you  want  to  live 
in  the  country;  there  is  no  business  to  be 
done  there,  my  lords. ' ' 

By  way  of  Heracleopolis,  where  divine 
honours  were  paid  to  the  ichneumon,  the 
spotted  rat  that  devours  the  eggs  of  the 
adders  and  attacks  the  adders  themselves, 
after  first  rolling  itself  in  the  mud,  which 
dries  round  its  body  and  forms  an  armour, 
the  travellers  reached  Cynopolis,  where  the 
dog  is  worshipped  as  Anubis,  and  Oxy- 
rynchus,  where  the  fish  of  the  name  is  vene- 


THE  TOUR  263 

rated.  And  it  now  appeared  that,  in  this 
region  of  Heptanomis,  where,  on  the  Arab- 
ian side  of  the  Nile,  the  strange  battlements 
of  the  blinding  white  Alabastrites  Mount- 
ains blaze  against  the  sky,  all  animals  re- 
ceived divine  honours,  as  thought  the  priests 
had  instituted  these  popular  forms  of  wor- 
ship in  great  numbers  everywhere,  so  that 
they  might  the  more  carefully  keep  to  them- 
selves the  secret  Hermetic  wisdom.  Cats 
and  falcons,  sheep  and  wolves,  baboons  and 
zebus,  eagles  and  lions,  goats  and  spiders ;  all 
the  animals  were  worshipped  in  one  or  other 
town  or  village;  all  the  animals  had  their 
temples  and  priests ;  and  Uncle  Catullus  said 
that  he  grew  weary  of  having  to  admire  so 
many  sacred  animals,  especially  as  Apis,  the 
little  bull,  and  Such,  the  crocodile,  were  after 
all  the  only  ones  that  were  really  interesting 
to  see.  But  all  this  cattle,  all  these  birds 
and  fishes,  all  these  creatures,  from  carni- 
vora  down  to  insects,  were  worshipped, 
tended,  fed  and  shown  in  the  temples  to 
strangers,  each  time  at  a  piece  of  gold  a  head, 


264  THE  TOUR 

No,  it  was  really  too  silly,  especially  when, 
after  the  first  Crocodilopolis,  on  the  left,  the 
second  Crocodilopolis  appeared  on  the  right, 
on  the  bank  of  the  Nile,  with  another  Such ! 

"Lucius,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  " honestly, 
I'm  not  going  to  feed  any  more  sacred  croco- 
diles, nor  any  sacred  goats  or  cats  or  beetles 
either.  I've  seen  enough  of  all  those  pests, 
do  you  hear,  nephew?" 

And  Lucius  and  Thrasyllus  were  inclined 
to  agree  with  Uncle  Catullus ;  and  the  barge 
sped  past  the  wondrous  purple  of  the 
Porphyrites  Mountains,  gold-ruddy  crests 
in  the  orange  evening  sky,  up  to  Ptolemais, 
the  greatest  town  in  the  Thebais. 

Ptolemais  was  a  prosperous  city,  ruled 
like  Alexandria  by  a  municipal  government 
founded  on  the  Greek  model;  but  after 
Ptolemais  the  travellers  were  especially 
charmed  with  Abydos.  Here  they  saw  the 
Memnonium,  which  was  not  so  gigantic  as 
the  labyrinth  but  which  still  was  built  of 
great  single  blocks  of  stone,  according  to 
that  same  marvellous  system  of  lost  ancient 


THE  TOUR  265 

architecture.  They  also  saw  the  under- 
ground well,  which  is  reached  by  vaults  and 
galleries,  a  subterranean  miracle  of  mono- 
liths, always  fitted  to  one  another  and  upon 
one  another,  without  masonry.  The  temple 
of  Apollo  rose  up  in  a  flowering  acacia- wood, 
as  in  a  sudden  dream  of  swarming  white, 
fragrant  blossoms. 

Lesser  Diopolis  and  Tentyra  followed. 
The  Tentyrians  worship  Aphrodite  and  hunt 
the  crocodile,  which  they  destroy  wherever 
they  can ;  and  Uncle  Catullus  said  that  they 
showed  good  taste  in  this  civilized  choice. 
After  the  half -Arabian  Coptos  and  Apollo- 
nopolis,  Thebes  loomed  into  view,  with  its 
hundred  gates,  the  gates  which  Homer  sang, 
the  gates  through  which  two  hundred  war- 
riors, with  all  their  horses  and  chariots, 
could  pass.  And,  as  the  travellers  drew 
near,  in  the  rosy  dawn  behind  Thebes, 
the  Smaragdis  Hills  appeared  in  green 
outline,  transparent  and  far-away  as  a 
dream  through  the  misty  light  of  the  hori- 
zon. 


266  THE  TOUR 

Thebes  was  already  called  Greater  Diospo- 
lis  and  worshipped  Zeus-Jupiter. 

" Heaven  be  praised!"  said  Uncle  Cat- 
ullus. "The  Upper  Egyptians  are  become 
sensible.  Venus  and  Jupiter  are  once  more 
held  in  honour !  Every  conceivable  sort  of 
crocodile,  goat,  dog,  rat,  falcon  and  beetle  is 
done  with.  It  was  high  time ! ' ' 

Like  Memphis,  Thebes  spread  itself  as  an 
immense,  ancient,  but  dying  city.  For 
eighty  stadia  along  the  Nile  its  ancient 
palaces  and  temples  stood  in  an  endless  row, 
forsaken,  ruined,  cracking,  slanting  and 
sinking,  with  their  pillars  and  walls,  their 
mutilated  colossi  and  sphinxes,  their  obelisks 
already  fallen  to  the  ground.  Even  in  the 
sun,  a  grey  melancholy  spread  over  the  great 
city,  whose  streets,  indeed,  were  crowded 
with  numbers  of  pedestrians,  camels  and 
litters,  but  without  the  feverish,  metropoli- 
tan bustle  which  had  reigned  at  Alexandria. 
The  gloom  of  a  fatally  waning  glory  lay 
like  a  haze  over  all  this  architectural  im- 
mensity, which  Cambyses,  with  his  Persian 


THE  TOUR  267 

hordes,  had  in  past  ages  destroyed  beyond 
repair,  as  with  gigantic  hammer-strokes. 

In  the  moonlit  night,  the  city,  with  its  vast 
outlines,  with  its  endless  row  of  Titanic 
palaces,  rose  beside  the  Nile  like  a  Titanic 
citadel,  mysteriously  chilling  to  the  heart. 
In  these  abandoned  temples  the  lost  wisdom 
especially  had  been  cultivated  by  the  omnis- 
cient priests,  the  heirs  of  Moses  and  of 
Hermes  Trismegistus.  Here  the  utmost 
wisdom  of  philosophy  and  astronomy  and 
astrology  was  known.  Here  the  year  and 
the  day  were  calculated  by  the  sun  and  no 
longer,  as  of  yore,  by  the  moon;  here  the 
year  was  divided  into  twelve  months  of 
thirty  days,  with  five  intercalary  days ;  and 
here  was  calculated  the  time  that  must  be 
added  to  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  exact  length  of 
the  year.  The  kings  who  reigned  here 
reigned,  according  to  the  hieroglyphs  on 
the  obelisks,  over  Scythia,  Bactria,  Ionia  and 
India!  They  had  ruled  the  world,  in  the 
deep-sunk  centuries!  In  the  measureless 


268  THE  TOUR 

spaces  of  their  immense  palaces  and 
temples,  from  which  the  Nile,  flowing  silver 
in  the  moonlight,  could  be  seen  through  the 
rows  of  pylons  gleaming  as  it  had  gleamed 
centuries  ago,  not  an  atom  remained  of  the 
material  or  immaterial  life  of  this  long,  long 
array  of  monarchs.  Their  names  alone 
were  still  extant,  written  on  cracking  or 
mutilated  obelisks,  but  their  history  lingered 
only  in  a  few  disputed  legends.  The  un- 
plumbed  depth  of  the  past  made  Lucius7 
sensitive  mind  turn  giddy.  Yet,  as  he 
wandered  by  Thrasyllus'  side  through  the 
endless  forsaken  halls  and  rooms  and  courts, 
here  dark  with  shadow,  there  lighted  by  the 
spectral  moon,  he  was  charmed  by  the 
sombre  beauty  and  grandeur  of  that  giddy 
depth. 

Here  too  stood  a  monolithic  Memnonium. 
Next  came,  linked  together,  the  forty  royal 
tombs  hewn  in  the  rock.  And,  in  front  of 
this  Titanic  ruin,  in  which  not  a  mummy  re- 
mained, the  travellers  saw,  in  the  moonlit 
night,  the  two  seated  colossi,  themselves 


THE  TOUR  269 

carved  out  of  monoliths;  but  one,  with  the 
trunk  broken  off — by  what  power? — had 
fallen  in  the  high  grass,  while  the  other  still 
stared  towards  the  east,  in  the  hieratic  atti- 
tude, the  long  hands  upon  the  knees,  the 
pschent  crowning  the  vast,  ecstatic  head, 
with  its  huge,  staring,  sightless  eyes,  from 
which  the  enamel  had  disappeared  and  the 
jewelled  pupils. 

The  travellers  stood  in  silence  before  the 
statue  in  the  moonlight;  and  even  Uncle 
Catullus  refrained  from  jesting.  The  atmo- 
sphere at  this  spot  was  woven  of  shimmer- 
ing divinity.  The  moon  was  waning,  the 
dawn  was  rising  rose-red.  And,  as  though 
with  a  human  voice,  a  single  note  sounded 
from  the  statue.  The  note  was  entoned 
clearly  and  almost  plaintively ;  it  developed 
into  the  powerful  sound  of  a  man's  high 
voice,  swelled  into  something  terribly  human 
and  almost  divine  and  broke  off  short  and 
hard.  They  all  heard  it  in  the  uncertain 
light:  Lucius,  Thrasyllus,  Catullus,  Caleb, 
Cora,  all  the  slaves,  male  and  female,  who 


270  THE  TOUR 

had  accompanied  the  travellers.  Caleb 
turned  very  pale  and  time  after  time  pressed 
his  lips  to  his  amulets. 

And,  motionless  and  now  silent,  the  blind 
colossus  stared  towards  the  sun,  which  was 
rising  out  of  a  sea  of  rosy  beams  and  gold- 
dust  cloud. 

That  evening,  in  the  temple  of  Zeus-Ju- 
piter-Ra,  the  travellers  saw  the  strange  cere- 
mony of  the  wedding  of  the  Pallade,  or 
Pallachide.  She  was  the  daughter  of  one  of 
the  greatest  families  of  Diospolis  and  was 
chosen  a  month  ago,  for  her  birth  and 
beauty,  as  the  priestess  of  the  god.  She  had 
served  the  god  that  month  by  giving  her 
beauty  to  whomsoever  she  would.  Now  that 
the  period  of  her  service  was  past,  she  was 
marrying  her  bridegroom,  a  young  man,  like 
herself  a  member  of  one  of  the  greatest  and 
oldest  Theban  families.  There  was  a  cere- 
mony of  mourning  and  dirge  because  the 
service  of  so  fair  and  famed  a  maiden  was 
at  an  end;  there  was  the  presentation  of 
gifts  by  all  whom  she  had  embraced  that 


THE  TOUR  271 

month ;  there  was  glad  gaiety  now  because  of 
her  wedding.  She  was  attired  and  anointed 
as  a  goddess  and  received  great  honour  from 
the  close-packed  multitude;  and  after  her 
wedding  she  kissed  the  priestess  who  suc- 
ceeded her,  likewise  a  virgin  from  one  of 
the  leading  families  of  the  town,  and  who 
was  shown  naked  before  the  altar  and  was 
exquisitely  beautiful  as  a  child. 

"Every  country  has  its  customs,"  said 
Uncle  Catullus,  with  a  shrug.  "I  don't 
envy  the  bridegroom;  but  no  one  seems  to 
consider  it  odd ;  and  the  polite  thing  for  us, 
as  foreigners,  to  do  will  be  just  to  act  as 
though  we  thought  it  quite  natural. " 

And  with  Lucius,  Thrasyllus  and  Caleb  he 
approached  the  bride,  who  was  now  spark- 
ling with  jewels  beside  her  bridegroom;  and 
their  slaves  threw  roses  and  lilies  and  lotus- 
flowers  before  her  feet ;  and  she  thanked  him 
with  a  silent,  winning  dignity,  standing  amid 
the  circle  of  her  kinsmen  in  a  queerly 
attitude. 

But,  after  Thebes,  to  Uncle  Catullus'  de- 


272  THE  TOUR 

spair,  there  reappeared  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile  the  towns  at  which  crocodiles,  fishes 
and  falcons  were  worshipped. 

"Lucius,"  said  Uncle  Catullus  to  his 
nephew,  seriously,  one  morning,  while  the 
barge  was  approaching  Apollonopolis 
Magna,  "  Lucius,  my  dear  boy,  I  have  a  con- 
fession to  make  to  you.  I  think  I've  had 
enough  of  it.  I'm  sick  of  falcons,  fishes  and 
crocodiles  which  are  gods,  not  to  mention 
dogs,  wolves,  beetles,  bulls  and  other  cattle. 
And,  in  addition  to  being  sick  of  all  these 
sacred  animals,  I  am  sick  of  all  those  strange 
Egyptian  foodstuffs,  while,  moreover,  I 
suspect  Caleb  of  fortifying  with  barley- 
spirit  the  wines  with  which  he  supplies  us 
out  of  his  store ;  and  this  applies  not  only  to 
the  thick-as-ink  Mareotis  wine  but  also  to 
the  topaz-yellow  liqueurs  of  Napata.  .  .  . 
Lucius,  my  dear  boy,  I  am  old  and  I  feel  ill. 
My  head  is  like  a  sponge  saturated  not  with 
water  but  with  impressions  of  strange  cere- 
monies and  immoral  customs.  Also  my 
stomach  is  overloaded  and  my  palate  over- 


THE  TOUR  273 

excited.  I  have  a  craving  for  a  few  succu- 
lent oysters  and  a  young  roast  peacock.  I 
understand  that  one  can't  get  those  here,  on 
the  Nile ;  but  still  I  should  like  to  learn  what 
your  plans  really  are  ...  I've  heard  some- 
thing about  hunting-expeditions  and  the 
pillars  of  Sesostris.  ..." 

"Yes,  uncle,"  Lucius  said,  with  a  smile, 
"Caleb  did  suggest  that  we  should  leave  the 
barge  at  Philae,  where  we  shall  soon  be 
arriving,  and  go  through  Ethiopia  with 
carts,  camels,  elephants  and  tents,  go  hunt- 
ing on  elephants  and  ostriches  and  travel 
over  Napata  and  Meroe,  through  forest  and 
wilderness,  to  Cape  Dire  and  the  pillars  of 
Sesostris,  where  we  shall  find  the  quadri- 
reme  waiting  for  the  homeward  journey." 

"Well,  my  dear  boy,  I  think  that  this 
programme,  together  with  my  spongy  brain 
and  overloaded  stomach,  would  be  too  much 
for  me.  If  I  were  to  accomplish  it  by  your 
side,  then  Egypt  would  certainly  be  the 
death  of  me,  a  contingency  which  I  am 
dreading  as  it  is.  I  think,  don't  you,  that  I 


274  THE  TOUR 

had  better  go  down  the  Nile  again  in  the 
barge,  past  all  the  sacred  wolves  and  falcons 
and  cats  and  beetles  ? ' ' 

But  Caleb  had  approached  : 

"In  that  case,  my  noble  Lord  Catullus," 
he  said,  "I  have  a  much  better  plan.  In 
fact,  I,  your  humble,  obedient  servant,  agree 
with  you  that  the  journey  through  Ethiopia 
would  perhaps  be  very  tiring  for  you.  That 
is  why  I  would  propose  that  the  thalamegus 
take  you  from  Apollonopolis  Magna,  by  the 
canal,  to  Berenice,  on  the  Bay  of  Acathantus, 
in  the  Arabian  Gulf.1  At  Berenice  you  will 
meet  the  quadrireme,  which  has  gone  by 
Pelusium  and  the  Nechao  Canal 2  and  is 
ascending  the  Arabian  Gulf  to  fetch  us  at 
the  pillars  of  Sesostris.  In  this  way  you 
will  do  the  journey  without  inconvenience 
and  yet  with  enjoyment,  for  the  Berenice 
Canal  passes  along  the  Smaragdis  Mount- 
ains and  they  are  a  dream,  my  lord ;  my  lord, 
they're  a  dream!  .  .  ." 

Thus  did  Caleb  advise  him,  reflecting  that, 

iThe  Bed  Sea. 

2  The  old  canal  through  the  Isthmus  of  Suez. 


THE  TOUR  275 

if  Uncle  Catullus  adopted  this  programme, 
instead  of  going  back  to  Alexandria,  the 
princely  apartments  at  the  Hermes  House 
would  remain  unoccupied  and  could  be  let  to 
the  Persian  grandees  who  had  fed  the  sacred 
Such  on  Lake  Mceris  and  who  were  travel- 
ling in  the  opposite  direction  to  his  own 
noble  clients. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AND  so  it  happened.  Uncle  Catullus 
thought  that  Caleb's  suggestion  was 
really  not  bad ;  and  so  he  remained 
on  board  the  thalamegus  with  Rufus  the 
under-steward  and  a  number  of  male  and 
female  slaves  and  was  to  go  from  Apollono- 
polis  Magna  to  Berenice,  there  to  meet  the 
quadrireme,  while  Lucius,  Thrasyllus  and 
Caleb  took  ship  in  a  simple  barge  which 
brought  them  to  Syene.  Tarrar  was  with 
them ;  and  Cora  was  with  them. 

"Cora,"  Lucius  had  asked,  "do  you  dare 
undertake  the  journey  through  the  forest 
and  the  wilderness  ? ' ' 

"My  lord,  I  am  your  slave,"  Cora  had 
answered,  gladly;  and  she  had  gone  with 
them. 

"When  we  come  back  at  night  from  hunt- 
ing, Cora,  you  shall  sing  to  us  under  the 
twinkling  stars  of  Ethiopia.  ..." 

276 


THE  TOUR  277 

At  Syene  the  travellers  saw  the  last  Ro- 
man soldiers:  there'  were  always  three 
cohorts  stationed  at  this  spot,  on  the  Egypt- 
ian frontier.  At  Elephantina  was  the  Little 
Cataract,  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  falling 
over  rocky  steps,  across  whose  smooth  sur- 
face the  water  first  shot  forward  quickly,  to 
come  shooting  next  over  a  rocky  rampart, 
roaring  and  clattering  in  a  deep  dive.  And 
the  travellers  saw  the  watermen  come  up 
from  Philae  in  light  boats  and  then  shoot, 
with  the  powerful,  brawling  stream,  over  the 
steps  and  raise  themselves  over  the  rocky 
wall  and  slip,  boat  and  all,  with  joyful  cries, 
down  the  waterfall  into  the  depths;  and  it 
looked  such  a  safe  sport  that  first  Caleb, 
next  Lucius,  next  even  Cora,  strapped  into  a 
little  skiff,  shot  the  rapids,  raising  them- 
selves over  the  wall  and  slipping  down  the 
waterfall. 

From  Syene  to  Philae  the  journey  was 
done  in  carts.  There  was  an  end  to  any 
luxurious  comfort;  the  road  led  for  hun- 
dreds of  stadia  through  a  level  plain  with 


278  THE  TOUR 

strange  big  rocks,  like  statues  of  Hermes  in 
a  Greek  city,  along  the  road.  They  were 
round  and  cylindrical,  like  polished  black 
stones,  three  on  top  of  one  another,  from 
large  to  small.  The  travellers  were  con- 
veyed to  the  island  in  a  raft  of  laths  and 
wickerwork,  on  which  the  water  lapped  over 
their  feet. 

"Herodotus  tells  us,"  said  Thrasyllus, 
"that  the  mysterious  sources  of  the  Nile 
ought  to  be  here,  near  Syene  and  Elephan- 
tina,  and  that  the  canal  which  leads  to  them 
is  an  abyss  and  a  bottomless  sea!  But  He- 
rodotus often  tells  us  fairy-tales!  For  ob- 
serve, the  abyss,  the  bottomless  sea,  is  co- 
vered all  over  with  islands ;  and  they  are  in- 
habited ;  and  the  sources  of  the  Nile  are  cer- 
tainly not  here!" 

At  Tachampso  the  travellers  again  took  a 
boat.  But  the  Ethiopian  forests  were  now 
to  be  traversed.  Lucius  mounted  his  ele- 
phant; the  others  mounted  camels;  more 
camels  carried  tents  and  luggage,  of  which 
there  was  now  only  a  little;  and  Caleb  had 


THE  TOUR  279 

hired  a  strongly-armed  escort  of  powerful 
Libyans  and  swift-footed  Arabs.  For, 
though  the  Ethiopians  themselves  were  not 
warlike  and  offered  no  danger  to  the  travel- 
lers, there  were  the  savage  races,  the  Tro- 
glodyte, the  Blemmyes,  the  Nubians,  the 
Megabari  and,  above  all,  the  Ochthyophagi 
and  Macrobii,  who,  if  they  were  not  over- 
awed by  the  sight  of  a  strong  and  numerous 
force,  might  surprise  and  plunder  the  tra- 
vellers. The  civilized  world  ended  here. 
This  was  the  very  end  of  the  world.  True, 
on  the  Nile  there  was  still  Napata  and  the 
Ethiopian  capital,  Meroe;  but  beyond  that 
was  buried  the  secret  of  the  world's  end,  the 
secret  of  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  the  secret 
of  the  horizons  of  the  earth,  the  secret  of  the 
endless  sea  surrounding  the  world.  Here, 
in  these  forests,  began  the  temptation  merely 
to  go  on  and  on,  to  go  on  in  order  to  learn 
what  the  end  would  be,  with  what  tempta- 
tions and  with  what  dread  perils.  Caleb 
told  of  travellers  who  had  gone  on  and  on 
and  who  had  seen  Typhon's  awful  giant  head 


280  THE  TOUR 

appear  above  the  edge  of  the  world,  with 
gaping  mouth ;  and  he  had  swallowed  them 
up.  One  guide  had  escaped  and  had  told  it 
to  Caleb,  who  said  that  he  was  worthy  of 
belief.  There  also,  in  the  immeasurable 
ocean  that  washed  the  world's  edge,  lay  the 
great  serpent,  which  coiled  itself  in  spirals 
and  then  covered  the  whole  surface  of  the 
water,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  when  it 
came  up  to  bask  in  the  scorching  heat  of  the 
southern  sun.  Once,  said  Caleb,  some  dar- 
ing travellers,  who  thought  that  the  snake 
was  a  sort  of  dark  desert,  had  walked  over 
its  scales,  for  miles  on  end,  until  the  snake 
moved  and  they  realized  the  terror  and 
slipped  into  the  sea  in  which  you  sink  and 
sink  and  sink,  for  three  centuries,  before 
reaching  the  bottom  of  Typhon's  Hell. 

These  were  the  terrible  tales  which  Caleb 
knew  how  to  tell,  one  after  the  other,  while 
the  sun  set  over  the  forest  and  the  stars 
twinkled  and  the  fires  blazed  high  and  the 
tents  were  pitched  and  a  sheep  roasted  on 
the  spit.  And  Caleb  made  himself  so  much 


THE  TOUR  281 

afraid  and  the  guards  and  drivers  so  very 
much  afraid  that,  shivering  with  fear,  they 
asked  Cora  to  sing.  Then  Cora  would  play 
on  her  harp  and  sing  to  them;  and  at  the 
sound  of  her  voice  the  dread  visions,  the  un- 
canny phantoms,  the  giants  and  pigmies 
vanished  and  sleep  came  over  them  all,  ex- 
cept Thrasyllus,  who  remained  awake,  smi- 
ling and  thoughtful,  and  looked  up  at  the 
stars  and  reflected  that,  thanks  to  his  studies, 
he  knew  the  occult  secret,  that  the  world  was 
not  a  disk,  washed  by  the  sea,  but  a  sphere, 
which  glowed  with  internal  fire  and  moved 
round  the  sun,  the  centre  of  the  universe. . . . 
It  was  as  though  a  new  health  were  ma- 
king Lucius  strong  and  cheerful.  Yes,  it 
seemed  to  Thrasyllus  that  Lucius  was  no 
longer  thinking  of  Ilia  and  that  he  was  cured 
of  his  carking  grief.  In  the  Ethiopian  for- 
ests, which  now  almost  surrounded  them 
with  an  impenetrable  wall  of  huge  trees  and 
dense  foliage  and  tangled  creepers,  he  aban- 
doned himself  enthusiastically  to  the  delights 
of  the  great  hunts  which  Caleb  organized, 


282  THE  TOUR 

with  the  aid  of  the  mighty  hunters  whom  he 
had  hired  for  his  noble  client.  These  hunt- 
ers included  five  Elephantophagi,  with  whom 
Lucius  hunted  the  elephants  which  some- 
times pass  through  the  forests  in  herds. 
The  elephants  were  often  shot  by  archers, 
three  of  whom  served  one  heavy  bow:  two 
men,  leg  forward,  held  the  bow;  the  third 
drew  back  the  string ;  and  the  arrow,  dipped 
in  snake-poison,  struck  the  elephant,  who 
fell  stunned.  If  the  elephant  was  not  killed, 
he  was  surrounded  with  a  network  of  ropes ; 
and,  when  he  recovered  consciousness,  he  was 
tamed  and  made  to  lure  other  elephants.  If 
the  elephant,  however,  was  not  to  be  tamed 
and  if,  after  recovering  his  senses,  he  re- 
lapsed into  a  dangerous  rage,  then  he  was 
driven,  amid  much  shouting  and  yelling, 
against  a  tree,  which  had  purposely  been 
sawn  through  at  the  foot.  Elephants  are 
accustomed  to  rest  against  trees ;  but,  as  soon 
as  the  untamable  elephant  leant  against  this 
tree,  it  fell  over  him  and  prevented  him  from 
rising,  so  that  he  broke  the  bone  of  his  leg 


THE  TOUR  283 

and  was  killed.  This  often  implied  cruelty, 
but  it  also  implied  danger;  and  Lucius' 
newly  aroused  manhood  found  satisfaction 
in  this  robust,  virile  sport. 

But  there  was  also  the  hunting  of  the  swift- 
footed  ostriches,  with  hunters  selected  from 
the  tribe  of  the  Struthophagi ;  and  this  hunt 
provided  the  maddest  enjoyment  and  excited 
Caleb  and  Tarrar  in  particular;  and  Thra- 
syllus  and  Cora  also  came  to  look  on,  for  it 
was  a  most  diverting  spectacle,  in  which  the 
hunters  disguised  themselves  as  ostriches, 
with  little  skirts  of  feathers  and  with  one 
hand  stuck  into  a  stuffed  ostrich-neck,  with 
the  stuffed  head  sticking  out  on  top.  There 
were  first  wild  bird-dances ;  then  the  hunters 
darted  forward  and  scattered  corn  and  lured 
the  real  birds,  which  rushed  after  them  and 
pecked  at  the  grains,  until  they  were  caught 
in  ravines  from  which  they  could  find  no 
issue  and  were  shot  with  arrows.  And  with 
their  precious  feathers,  bleached  and  curled, 
the  Struthophagi  made  costly  coverings,  soft 
and  white  and  downy,  which  Caleb  bought 


284  THE  TOUR 

for  a  song  to  send  to  Alexandria  and  Rome, 
where  they  were  a  great  luxury,  so  that  Ca- 
leb made  a  pretty  penny  by  the  transaction. 

Sometimes  there  was  danger  in  the  forest. 
There  was  danger  when  the  Struthophagi 
met  the  Sionians,  a  tribe  of  nomads  with 
whom  they  were  always  at  war ;  it  was  dan- 
gerous when  the  Acridophagi  appeared,  the 
verminous  locust-eaters,  but  the  travellers' 
strong  escort,  the  huge  Libyans  and  nimble 
Arabs,  inspired  respect  and  the  wild  no- 
mads fled  at  the  first  bow-shot.  And  Caleb 
was  afraid  of  nobody;  he  feared  only  the 
wood-nymphs,  who,  when  they  have  caught 
you  in  their  arms,  which  are  pythons,  laugh 
and  laugh  into  your  ears,  until  you  go  mad, 
and  then  dance  round  with  you,  until  you 
drop  dead.  And,  when  he  lay  down  at  night 
to  sleep  under  a  black  ostrich-feather  cover- 
ing, he  also  feared  the  scorpions,  which  have 
no  fewer  than  four  jaws  and  whose  bite  is 
not  fatal  but  produces  a  slow,  incurable 
canker. 

They  also  caught  lions,  in  nets,  and  hip- 


THE  TOUR  285 

popotami,  in  pits,  and  wild  buffaloes,  which 
they  pursued  with  the  huge  hounds  of  the 
Cynamolgian  hunters.  They  hunted  from 
tall  trees  and  they  hunted  from  the  reeds  in 
the  water.  It  was  a  rude  and  stimulating 
life ;  and  Caleb  once  said  to  Lucius,  seriously, 
that  he  felt  the  courage  to  go  on  and  to  go 
on  again  ...  to  fight  the  great  snake  in  the 
ocean  that  encompassed  the  earth.  .  .  . 

It  did  not  come  to  that,  however.  But  the 
caravan  was  approaching  Napata  and  the 
Ethiopian  emerald-mines  and  topaz-rocks. 
The  emerald-mines  were  like  marvellous, 
green,  magic  caves,  in  which  thousands  of 
slaves  were  working;  the  topaz-rocks  were 
visited  at  nighttime:  the  stones,  because  of 
their  yellow  sheen,  are  almost  invisible  by 
day,  but  glitter  in  the  dark  night ;  then  little 
metal  tubes  are  planted  over  each  stone  that 
is  found,  so  as  to  make  it  easier  to  recognize 
the  stones  in  the  daytime  and  to  grub  them 
out.  In  former  ages,  the  Egyptian  and 
Ethiopian  kings  maintained  separate  guards 
around  these  mines  and  rocks. 


286  THE  TOUR 

At  Napata,  where  the  travellers  now  ar- 
rived, they  saw  their  first  entirely  native, 
barbarian  town.  There  was  not  a  word  of 
Latin  spoken  here;  Lucius  and  Thrasyllus 
could  not  have  made  themselves  understood 
without  Tarrar  and  Caleb ;  and  even  then  the 
little  Libyan  slave  and  the  Sabaean  guide 
found  it  difficult  to  grapple  with  the  lan- 
guage. The  Ethiopians,  who  wore  no  cloth- 
ing save  the  skin  of  some  animal  round  their 
waist,  surprised  the  travellers  by  the  small- 
ness  of  their  stature.  Everything  about 
them  was  small :  their  houses  built  of  palm- 
leaves  and  bamboo,  their  oxen  and  goats  and 
sheep;  and  Thrasyllus  was  of  opinion  that 
the  legend  of  the  Pygmaei,  or  nations  of 
dwarfs,  had  originated  because  of  Ethiopia. 

The  natives  ate  hardly  any  meat,  but 
mainly  vegetables  and  fruits,  or  young 
shoots  of  trees,  or  they  would  suck  reed- 
stalks  and  lotus-flowers.  But  they  also  took 
blood  and  milk  and  cheese;  and  there  was 
no  other  food.  No,  Uncle  Catullus  would 


THE  TOUR  287 

never  have  stood  it  here,  thought  Lucius, 
when  the  travellers  went  still  farther  south, 
to  the  capital  of  Ethiopia,  Meroe,  on  the 
island  of  the  same  name.  And  here  Lucius 
discovered  that  the  famous  date-wines  and 
topaz-yellow  liqueurs  of  Napata  and  Meroe 
were  a  sheer  hoax,  that  there  was  no  wine  or 
liqueur  whatever  distilled  in  Ethiopia,  and 
that  the  delicious  drinks  with  which  Master 
Ghizla  and  Caleb  had  provided  him  and 
Uncle  Catullus  came  from  no  farther  than 
Lake  Mareotis  at  Alexandria! 

A  fabulous  vegetation,  however,  grew  lux- 
uriantly over  the  island.  If  the  people  and 
animals  were  small,  the  trees  shot  up  with 
amazing  vigour:  the  huge  palm-trees,  the 
ebony-trees,  the  ceratia  and  persea,  under 
whose  gigantic  domes  of  thick  foliage  the 
green  villages  of  little  plaited  wicker  huts 
disappeared  from  view.  In  the  marshes 
round  Lake  Psebo  the  travellers  hunted,  if 
not  the  great  snake,  at  any  rate  the  terrible 
boa,  which  even  ventures  to  attack  the  ele- 


288  THE  TOUR 

pliant.  And  the  natives  showed  them  a  fight 
between  one  of  these  boas  and  an  elephant 
and  a  hippopotamus. 

They  visited  the  gold-mines,  the  copper- 
mines,  the  jewel-mines,  the  temples  of  Her- 
cules and  Pan  and  of  a  strange  barbaric 
deity.  The  dead  were  buried  in  the  Nile,  or 
else  they  were  kept  in  the  houses  under  a 
mica  slab  of  human  form.  In  the  middle  of 
the  town  stood  the  Golden  Temple,  where  the 
king  dwelt  in  sacred  mystery.  There  were 
slabs  of  gold  between  bamboo  columns.  In 
former  ages  the  priests  elected  the  kings  and 
deposed  them  at  will ;  but  a  certain  king  had 
caused  all  the  priests  to  be  strangled  and 
since  then  a  law  had  been  passed  that,  if  the 
king  maimed  or  lost  a  limb,  all  the  people 
of  his  court  had  to  inflict  the  same  injury  on 
themselves,  for  which  reason  the  king's  per- 
son was  guarded  with  great  care  and  was 
divine  and  sacred ;  and  the  travellers  did  not 
see  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

AFTER  the  fierce  hunting  by  day,  the 
nights  were  twinkling  mysteries  of 
great  shining,  diamond  stars;  and 
Sirius  shone  like  a  white  sun.  The  rustling 
silence,  the  audible  stillness  of  the  vast  for- 
ests lapped  the  encampment  of  the  caravan, 
where  the  fires  died  out  but  still  glowed  suffi- 
ciently to  keep  the  wild  animals  at  a  distance 
and  where  the  guards  and  drivers  lay  im- 
mersed in  sound  sleep.  Lucius  was  happy 
in  that  mystery ;  and  in  the  silvery  sheen  of 
the  night  the  last  memories  of  his  grief 
seemed  to  lift  like  wisps  of  disappearing 
mist. 

The  travellers  had  approached  the  Land 
of  Ophir ;  and  the  pillars  of  Sesostris  would 
be  reached  next  day.  In  this  last  twinkling 
night  of  forest-life,  with  the  stars  shining 
through  the  foliage  like  a  diamond  cupola 
above  an  emerald  dome,  Lucius  had  left  his 
tent  while  all  the  others  slept.  Next  to  his 

289 


290  THE  TOUR 

tents  were  those  of  Thrasyllus,  Caleb  and 
Cora.  And  he  saw  Cora  sitting  outside  her 
tent,  which  was  the  biggest,  because  she  was 
a  woman,  and  made  of  spotted  lynx-hides, 
whose  warmth  resisted  the  plentiful  dew. 
And  she  rose  and  stretched  her  hands  to  the 
ground,  in  salutation,  and  preserved  that  at- 
titude, shyly. 

"Are  you  not  sleeping,  Cora?"  asked  Lu- 
cius. 

"No,  my  lord.  I  cannot  sleep  when  the 
nights  twinkle  like  this,  when  the  stars  send 
forth  such  rays  that  it  is  really  as  though 
they  were  moving  to  and  fro.  I  feel  that 
I  must  go  on  gazing  at  them  until  they  fade 
away." 

"Life  here  in  the  forest  is  too  wild  for 
you,  too  lonely.  ..." 

"Life  in  the  forest  is  paradise,  my  lord. 
By  day  Thrasyllus  tells  me  wonderful  things 
about  the  mountains  and  the  plants  and  the 
animals  and  the  savage  tribes;  and  so  the 
hours  pass  until  you  return  from  hunt- 
ing .  .  ." 


THE  TOUR  291 

"  And  you  sing  to  us  and  dance  in  the  light 
of  the  fire  and  charm  the  rude  hunters  and 
Caleb  in  particular.  ..." 

She  smiled  and  made  no  reply. 

Then  she  continued : 

"And  the  nights  are  such  strange  mys- 
teries of  sounds  and  silence  and  of  radiant 
stars ;  and  it  is  as  though  Sirius  grew  bigger 
nightly. ' ' 

"And  you  are  never  frightened!" 

* '  I  am  not  frightened,  my  lord. ' ' 

"Not  even  at  night?" 

"Least  of  all  at  night,  because  ..." 

"Because  what!" 

"Because  then  you  have  returned;  and  I 
feel  safest  where  you  are." 

"From  that  height  yonder,  Cora,  one  can 
see  the  sea.  I  love  the  sea  and  I  often  miss 
the  sea  in  the  forest.  I  am  glad  that  we  are 
near  the  sea  again.  As  I  returned  from 
hunting,  I  could  just  catch  sight  of  a  streak 
of  sea  from  there.  I  should  like  to  see  the 
sea  now,  at  night,  with  all  those  twinkling 
stars  above  it. ' ' 


292  THE  TOUR 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"Come  with  me  ...  that  is,  if  you  are 
not  frightened." 

"I  am  not  frightened,  my  lord,  where  you 


are.' 


And  her  heart  throbbed  in  her  throat,  but 
not  with  fear. 

They  went  past  the  sleeping  guards  and 
left  the  circle  of  the  watch-fires.  She  nearly 
stumbled  over  the  creepers  and  stones ;  and 
he  said : 

*  *  Give  me  your  hand. ' ' 

It  was  the  first  time  that  his  hand  had  met 
hers.  He  had  never  touched  her  before. 
When  she  felt  the  warm  strength  of  his  hand 
around  her  own  small  hand,  hers  lay  passive 
like  a  captive  dove. 

"Why  are  you  trembling  so  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  my  lord,"  she  stammered. 

He  smiled  and  did  not  speak  again. 

They  climbed  the  rocky  height  and  he 
helped  her,  with  his  fingers  still  grasping 
hers.  He  even  put  his  arm  round  her  slim 


THE  TOUE  293 

waist,  to  support  her,  and  lie  felt  that  she 
was  still  trembling,  as  in  a  fever. 

"Look,"  he  said,  pointing,  "there  is  the 
sea." 

They  both  looked  out.  Around  them 
stretched  the  forests,  all  shadow  and  dense- 
ness  and  gloom  and  loneliness  and  mystery. 
On  one  horizon,  gleaming  darkly  in  the 
night,  lay  the  line  of  the  sea,  the  Arabian 
Gulf,  the  Erythraean,  or  Red  Sea. 

"The  sea,"  she  stammered.  "Yes,  the 
sea,  I  love  it  too.  I  always  had  it  around 
me,  at  Cos.  I  also  miss  it  in  the  forest,  as 
you  do,  my  lord." 

"To-morrow  we  shall  reach  the  sea  again, 
Cora.  .  .  .  Cora,  I  want  you,  to-night,  this 
last  night  ...  to  dance  to  me  .  .  .  here,  in 
the  starlight." 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  slave. 

She  danced.  She  softly  hummed  a  tune 
between  scarce-parted  lips.  The  thin  folds 
of  her  garment  flew  to  either  side ;  and  with 
her  veils  she  mimicked  the  movements  of 


294  THE  TOUR 

birds'  wings.  She  hovered  round  and  round 
on  the  upland,  circling  like  a  swallow. 

He  stepped  towards  her;  and  she  ceased 
dancing. 

"Cora,"  he  said,  " to-morrow  we  shall  be 
at  Dire,  by  the  pillars  of  Sesostris.  On  the 
opposite  side  are  Ebal  and  Usal  and  Saba, 
Caleb's  country,  to  which  he  wants  to  return 
when  he  is  rich." 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"Cora,  if  you  are  really  fond  of  Caleb,  T 
will  resign  you  to  him." 

She  trembled  and  clasped  her  hands.  She 
fell  on  her  knees  and  gave  one  loud  sob. 

"What's  the  matter,  Cora  T ' 

"My  lord,  let  me  stay  with  you!  Let  me 
dance  and  sing  for  you,  let  me  serve  you,  let 
me  wash  your  feet ;  kick  me,  beat  me,  torture 
me!  But  do  not  send  me  away!  Do  not 
send  me  away!  Keep  me!  Keep  me  with 
you!  ...  I  come  from  Dry  ope 's  slave- 
school,  I  have  cost  you  a  fortune,  my  lord! 
I  am  not  beautiful,  but  my  voice  is  good  and, 
my  lord,  I  am  a  clever  dancer.  But,  if  your 


THE  TOUR  295 

lordship  is  tired  of  my  voice  and  my  dancing, 
I  will  wash  your  feet;  and,  when  you  are 
angry  and  want  to  beat  a  slave,  you  shall 
beat  me  and  ill-treat  me !  But  keep  me,  keep 
me,  wherever  you  may  be ! " 

She  had  thrown  herself  before  him  and 
was  sobbing  and  kissing  his  feet. 

And  he  said : 

4 'Then,  Cora,  don't  you  love  Caleb?" 

"My  lord/'  she  said,  "I  love  you — if  I 
must  say  it ! — and  I  have  loved  you  from  the 
first  moment  when  Thrasyllus  brought  me  to 
you.  And,  if  it  please  you,  my  lord,  I  will 
die  for  you.  But  keep  me  and  do  not  give 
me  to  Caleb!" 

"And,  if  it  pleased  me,  Cora  .  .  .  that 
you  should  not  die  for  me  but  live  for  me? 
Not  only  to  sing  to  me  and  dance  to  me  but 
also  to  throw  your  arms  around  my  neck,  to 
lay  your  breast  on  my  breast  and  your  lips 
on  my  lips?  ..." 

She  gave  a  cry  as  of  incredible  happiness. 
Smiling,  he  raised  her  very  tenderly  and 
folded  her  in  his  arms,  close  against  him. 


296  THE  TOUR 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  in  ecstasy,  when  his  lips 
sought  hers.  "Aphrodite!  Aphrodite!  She 
has  heard  my  prayer ! ' ' 

Her  little  hands  ventured  to  reach  out  for 
his  head  and  take  it  by  the  temples.  Around 
them  was  the  solitude  of  the  Ethiopian 
night;  from  out  of  the  forests  the  flowers 
filled  the  air  with  incense ;  a  spice-laden  aro- 
ma was  wafted  from  the  sea;  and  the  radiant 
stars  hung  above  them,  like  white  suns,  with 
the  dazzling  glory  that  was  Sirius.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

CAPE  DIRE!    The  sea  was  reached; 
and  there  rose  the  obelisks,  the  shafts, 
the  pillars  of  Sesostris,  whose  sacred 
writings  immortalized  the  remembrance  of 
the  passage  of  the  Egyptian  world-ruler  who 
for  nine  years  had  linked  conquest  to  con- 
quest, even  to  Arabia,  even  to  Bactriana, 
even  to  India.    And  Caleb  approached  Lu- 
cius with  a  smile  and  said : 

"Most  noble  lord,  I  wished  to  keep  it  for 
you  as  a  surprise  and  would  not  tell  you  be- 
fore, but  this  little  diversorium  at  Cape  Dire, 
overlooking  my  beloved  native  land,  belongs 
to  us,  to  Ghizla  and  me,  and  is  a  small  branch 
of  our  great  Hermes  House  at  Alexandria; 
and  to-night  you  need  no  longer  sleep  in  a 
tent  but  will  have  a  worthy  apartment  and 
isleep  on  a  soft  couch  of  skins.  For,  though 
you  are  still  without  your  own  furni- 
ture and  your  sumptuous  utensils  and  treas- 
ures of  art  and  though  this  little  guest-house 

297 


298  THE  TOUR 

is  not  to  be  compared  with  our  big  diverso- 
rimn,  it  is  nevertheless  comfortable  and 
clean  and  it  has  bathrooms  and  kitchens  and 
we  built  it  here  for  the  accommodation  of 
any  noble  lords  who  travel  from  Alexandria 
to  the  pillars  of  Sesostris  or  from  the  pil- 
lars of  Sesostris  to  Alexandria." 

And  Caleb,  swaggering  gaily  and  elegantly 
on  the  tips  of  his  red  boots,  led  the  travellers 
into  his  guest-house;  and  Lucius,  for  the 
first  time  for  weeks,  bathed  not  in  a  rustling 
stream  but  in  a  bathroom,  where  his  slaves 
rubbed  and  kneaded  his  body. 

Caleb  stood  on  the  cape,  with  his  hand 
above  his  eyes,  and  looked  out  in  astonish- 
ment. He  was  surprised  that  the  quadri- 
reme,  with  Uncle  Catullus  on  board,  had  not 
arrived  from  the  Gulf  of  Acathantus,  nay, 
was  not  even  in  sight.  Could  there  have 
been  an  accident?  He  told  his  fears  to  no 
one  but  Thrasyllus ;  and  the  two  stood  look- 
ing long  on  the  point  of  Cape  Dire,  gazing 
into  the  distance,  each  with  his  hand  above 
his  eyes. 


THE  TOUR  299 

But  at  last,  when  night  began  to  fall,  the 
great,  graceful  sea-monster  appeared  on  the 
horizon,  with  her  prow  erect  like  a  swan's 
neck  and  her  hundreds  of  slender  legs  mov- 
ing in  unison ;  and  the  rose-yellow  sails  bel- 
lied in  the  breeze;  and  the  silver  statue  of 
Aphrodite  shot  forth  its  silver  spark  of 
light;  and  the  rowers'  long  melancholy 
chant,  the  soft,  monotonous  accompaniment 
of  tiring  work,  was  borne  long  and  wistfully 
over  the  sea,  together  with  the  cheerful  song 
of  the  sailors.  And  the  travellers,  who  now 
all  stood  on  the  cape  waiting  for  the  ship, 
saw  the  figures  of  Uncle  Catullus,  of  the 
stewards  Vettius  and  Ruf  us,  of  the  magister 
and  the  gubernator. 

And  they  waved  again  and  again;  and 
Cora,  with  her  harp  pressed  to  her  bosom, 
sang  the  song  of  welcome  to  the  ship;  and 
her  voice  sounded  jubilant  and  clear,  full  of 
happiness  and  full  of  gladness.  The  ropes 
were  flung  ashore,  the  ship  lay  moored.  .  .  . 

But  what  was  the  anxiety  that  covered  the 
faces  of  all  on  board,  who  were  now  prepar- 


300  THE  TOUR 

ing  to  walk  across  the  gangway  to  the  jetty? 
Why  did  Uncle  Catullus  lift  his  hands  on 
high  and  shake  his  head,  pinned  round  so 
comically  in  his  travelling- veil  ?  And  what 
was  it  that  Vettius  and  Rufus  were  saying 
to  each  other  with  much  gesticulation  and 
why  did  they  now  all  land  with  such  em- 
barrassed faces ? 

"Well,  Lucius,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  em- 
bracing him,  "  you  're  looking  splendid,  my 
dear  fellow,  splendid,  brown  and  bronzed  as 
a  Mmrod ;  and  your  arms  feel  hard  and  your 
eyes  are  bright  and  your  mouth  is  laughing 
happily  and  you  look  very  different  from 
what  you  were  when  we  left  BaiaB.  .  .  .  Ah, 
my  dear,  dear  Lucius!  Fortune  is  blind 
and  fate  is  a  riddle  and  we  poor  mortals  are 
the  playthings  of  the  cruel  gods;  and  we 
never  know,  in  the  midst  of  our  delight  and 
gladness,  what  is  hanging  over  our  heads 
.  .  .  especially  when  travelling,  dear  boy: 
my  dear  boy,  especially  when  travelling!" 

"But  why  especially  when  travelling,  my 
dear  uncle?"  asked  Lucius,  laughing. 


THE  TOUR  301 

And  he  led  his  uncle  into  the  diversorium ; 
and  his  uncle  was  now  weeping;  and  his 
slaves  unpinned  his  travelling-veil  for  him 
and  relieved  him  of  his  travelling-cloak ;  and 
Vettius  and  Rufus  also  looked  so  strange  and 
so  gloomy  and  solemn ;  and  it  was  as  though 
the  air  were  filled  with  dread. 

"But,  Uncle  Catullus,"  said  Lucius, 
"what  has  happened?" 

"My  dear,  dear  boy,"  Uncle  Catullus  kept 
on  tediously  repeating,  "I  ...  I  really  can 
not  tell  you. ' ' 

And  he  wrung  his  hands  and  wept;  and 
Thrasyllus  turned  pale  and  Cora  turned  pale 
and  Ruf us  looked  gloomy. 

"No,"  repeated  Uncle  Catullus,  "I  really 
can  not  tell  Lucius.  You  tell  him,  Vettius, 
you  tell  him. ' ' 

"My  Lord  Catullus,"  said  Vettius,  at  last, 
in  despair,  "how  can  I  tell  my  Lord  Lucius'? 
If  I  do,  he  will  fly  into  a  passion  and  kill 
me ;  but,  perhaps,  if  Ruf  us  will  tell  him  ..." 

"I  will  not,  I  will  not!"  said  Rufus,  ward- 
ing off  the  suggestion  with  both  hands.  ' '  By 


302  THE  TOUR 

all  the  gods,  Vettius,  I  will  not  tell  him." 

"Nor  will  I,"  said  Uncle  Catullus,  moan- 
ing and  weeping. 

Lucius  now  knitted  his  brows  and  said : 

"But  I  must  know,  Vettius.  I  order  you 
to  tell  me  what  has  happened — for  something 
has  happened — I  order  you  to  tell  me  and  I 
swear  not  to  kill  you.  .  .  .  Has  it  to  do  with 
the  quadrireme,  a  mutiny  among  the  row- 
ers?" 

"Worse  than  that,  my  lord!"  wailed  Vet- 
tius. 

' l  Has  there  been  a  theft  of  our  baggage  or 
jewels  or  plate?" 

"Worse,  my  lord,  much  worse!" 

"Has  there  been  a  fire  at  our  insula  in 
Rome?  Is  the  villa  burned  down?" 

"Worse,  worse,  my  lord!"  Vettius  and 
Ruf us  now  cried  in  unison. 

And  they  flung  themselves  at  Lucius'  feet 
and  embraced  his  knees ;  and  Uncle  Catullus 
fell  sobbing  on  Thrasyllus'  breast. 

"But  what  is  it?  By  all  the  gods,  speak 
up !"  cried  Lucius,  in  a  fury.  "What  is  it? 


THE  TOUR  303 

Speak  up,  or  I  will  have  you  whipped  till 
you  do!" 

"We  will  tell  you,  my  lord!"  Vettius  and 
Ruf  us  now  cried. 

And  Uncle  Catullus  cried  : 

"Yes,  tell  him,  tell  him;  after  all,  he  must 
be  told." 

"Are  we  alone,  my  lord  ?"  whined  Vettius. 
"Are  there  no  slaves  listening  at  the  doors 
and  is  Caleb  out  of  hearing "? ' ' 

Cora  opened  the  doors  and  peeped  out : 

"There  is  no  one  there,"  she  said.  "I 
will  withdraw,  my  lord." 

"No,  stay,"  commanded  Lucius. 

She  stayed. 

"Speak  up,"  Lucius  commanded  Vettius, 
lifting  him  up. 

"My  lord,"  said  Vettius,  falling  at  Lu- 
cius' feet  again,  "if  I  must  tell  you,  let  me 
do  so  at  your  feet.  For  I  have  not  the 
strength  left  to  tell  you,  if  I  stand  face  to 
face  with  your  anger,  my  lord. ' ' 

"Speak!"  roared  Lucius,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder. 


304  THE  TOUR 

"My  lord,"  said  Vettius,  at  last,  clasping 
Lucius'  knees  in  Ms  hands  and  kissing  them 
continually,  "my  lord,  our  gracious  emper- 
or, Augustus  Tiberius,  is  wroth  with  you,  we 
know  not  for  what  reason,  and  .  .  ." 

"Well?"  shouted  Lucius. 

"And  he  has  confiscated  all  your  possess- 
ions, O  my  lord,  everything  that  you  possess : 
all  your  insula  in  Rome,  your  villa,  your  es- 
tates and  domains,  your  horses  and  chariots 
and  cattle,  your  slaves  and  treasures  of  art, 
your  library  and  your  jewels  .  .  .  and  has 
attached  all  the  sums  which  you  had  lodged 
with  your  bankers  and  money-changers  in 
various  towns !  You  are  penniless,  my  lord, 
for  you  own  nothing  except  what  your  ship 
contains;  and,  if  I  had  not  succeeded  in 
keeping  Tiberius'  displeasure  secret  by 
means  of  a  precipitate  flight  and  by  continu- 
ing to  drift  about  in  the  Great  Sea  and  the 
Arabian  Gulf,  your  quadrireme  also  would 
have  been  seized  at  Alexandria  and  you 
would  now  have  been  without  your  ship, 
without  your  rowers,  without  your  slaves, 


THE  TOUR  305 

without  a  single  penny.  By  bribing  the  au- 
thorities at  Pelusium  with  the  money  that 
remained  in  my  hands,  I  managed  secretly 
to  pass  through  the  Nechao  Canal  to  Arsi- 
noe ;  and  at  Berenice  we  met  your  Uncle  Ca- 
tullus and  informed  him  of  the  terrible  news. 
My  lord,  do  not  slay  me  and  do  not  be  wroth 
with  me,  for  I  have  saved  for  you  what  I 
could!" 

And  Vettius  writhed  at  Lucius'  feet  and 
sobbed ;  and  they  all  sobbed :  Uncle  Catullus, 
Thrasyllus,  Rufus  and  Cora.  .  .  . 

And  Caleb,  who  had  been  listening  at  the 
door,  turned  very  pale. 

For  there  was  still  a  long,  long,  long  pa- 
pyrus scroll  of  a  bill  awaiting  payment,  for 
the  big  hunts  in  the  Ethiopian  forests ! 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

CALEB  was  pale  when  he  appeared 
before  Lucius,  who  had  sent  for  him. 
" Caleb,"  said  Lucius,  "perhaps 
you  already  know  ..." 

"I  know  nothing,  my  lord,"  said  Caleb. 

"I  am  penniless,  Caleb.  The  Emperor 
Tiberius  has  confiscated  all  my  possessions ; 
and  even  my  title  to  the  quadrireme  is  ques- 
tionable." 

"O  my  lord,  O  my  lord!"  Caleb  began  to 
lament.  "O  my  poor,  poor,  noble  lord! 
What  a  terrible  fate  to  befall  you !  If  only 
you  had  consented  faithfully  to  wear  the  Sa- 
baean  amulets !  O  my  poor,  poor,  noble  lord ! 
What  will  you  do  now?  You,  who  always 
lived  in  the  lap  of  luxury !  And  now !  How 
now?  Alas,  my  poor,  poor,  noble  lord,  and 
alas,  poor,  poor  Caleb!  For  who,  my  lord, 
my  poor,  poor,  noble  lord,  will  now  pay  my 
bill  I" 

And,  wailing  and  lamenting  and  shaking 

306 


THE  TOUR  307 

his  head  and  weeping,  Caleb  unfurled  the 
long,  long,  long  papyrus  scroll  of  his  bill, 
which  uncoiled  itself  from  his  quivering  fin- 
gers right  down  to  the  floor,  like  a  rustling 
snake. 

"We'll  look  into  your  bill  at  once,  Caleb, " 
said  Lucius,  encouragingly.  "Call  the  ste- 
wards and  Thrasyllus  to  me." 

They  came  and  examined  the  bill  and 
shook  their  heads  and  thought  the  expenses 
of  the  great  Ethiopian  hunting-expedition 
terribly  high ;  but  Caleb  swore  that,  because 
of  his  growing  affection  for  Lucius,  he  had 
charged  less  than  he  did  to  other  noble  lords : 

"But  there  is  a  solution,  my  lord,"  said 
Caleb,  drawing  Lucius  aside.  And  he  con- 
tinued, "My  lord,  if  you  will  make  over  Cora 
to  me  ...  I  will  write  off  all  the  expenses 
of  the  Ethiopian  hunting-expedition." 

"Caleb,"  said  Lucius,  earnestly,  "I  know 
that  you  are  fond  of  Cora.  But  I  also  am 
very  fond  of  her,  Caleb,  and  I  mean  to  keep 
her  as  my  only  treasure." 

A  loud  sob  came  from  a  corner  of  the 


308  THE  TOUR 

room.  And  Lucius,  turning  round,  saw  Tar- 
rar sitting  on  the  floor,  looking  profoundly 
dejected. 

"And  me,  my  lord?"  sobbed  Tarrar. 
"Won't  you  keep  me  as  your  little  slave,  my 
lord?" 

Lucius  smiled  and  laid  his  hand  on  Tar- 
rar's  woolly  head : 

"I  am  not  forgetting  you  either,  Tarrar," 
he  said,  "and  I  shall  keep  you  too.  But,  for 
the  rest,  Caleb,  I  shall  have  to  sell  the  ship 
and  all  my  slaves  and  anything  that  remains 
to  me.  I  have  some  money  as  well,  however, 
and  I  will  try  to  pay  you  in  full.  But  Cora 
shall  not  appear  on  the  bill. " 

"Alas,  my  lord,  this  is  an  evil  day  and  the 
end  of  the  world  is  certainly  near  at  hand, 
notwithstanding  that  I  can  see  the  blue  coast 
of  my  dear  Saba !  I,  like  yourself,  am  losing 
everything:  the  hope  of  getting  Cora,  who 
loves  you  even  as  you  love  her,  and  the  hope 
of  getting  my  poor  money!" 

"Come,  Caleb,  we  must  not  repine.  Let 
us  just  count  the  money  that  remains  to  us." 


THE  TOUR  309 

The  stewards  laid  rows  of  gold  coins  on 
the  table.  And  Caleb's  bill,  despite  the 
length  which  his  papyrus  scroll  covered  on 
the  floor,  was  paid  and  receipted,  after  some 
quibbling  between  the  stewards,  who  took  ex- 
ception to  certain  items,  and  Caleb,  who  was 
quite  amenable  to  reason.  And,  when  the 
money  had  been  transferred  to  the  purse 
which  wound  like  a  fat  snake  round  Caleb's 
waist,  he  became  cheerful  again  and  said : 

"My  lord,  my  noble  lord,  for  you  are  still 
a  noble  lord,  listen  to  me.  I  am  profoundly 
miserable  that  I  can't  have  Cora.  Yes,  my 
lord,  really,  I  am  profoundly  miserable. 
But  I  am  an  honest  fellow  and  at  the  same 
time  I  am  a  man  of  business.  Listen,  my 
lord,  and  let  your  stewards  listen  and  your 
trusty  Thrasyllus  too.  Listen,  my  lord. 
You  wish  to  sell  the  quadrireme  with  all  her 
contents.  But  where,  my  lord ?  It  can't  be 
done  at  Alexandria,  for  any  property  of 
yours  would  be  seized  at  once.  Here,  at 
Cape  Dire,  oh,  there  are  only  uncivilized  Ma- 
crobii  and  no  noble  lords  who  are  in  a  posi- 


310  THE  TOUR 

tion  to  buy  the  quadrireme!  Listen,  my 
lord,  listen.  Do  you  with  all  these  your 
servants,  free  men  and  witnesses,  sign  a  cer- 
tificate, oh,  my  ever  noble  lord,  a  certificate 
.  .  .  dare  I  say  it?" 

" Speak  out,  Caleb!" 

"A  certificate  that  the  quadrireme,  with 
her  rowers  and  all  her  contents,  belongs  to 
me;  and  I  swear  by  the  gods  of  Sabaea  and 
of  Egypt,  by  the  eyes  of  Cora,  whom  I  love, 
by  the  friendship  which  I,  my  lord,  your 
guide  and  companion  in  the  chase,  venture 
to  cherish  for  you,  I  swear,  my  lord,  that  I 
will  myself  endeavour  to  dispose  of  the  qua- 
drireme to  a  noble  lord  and  pay  you  hon- 
estly, to  the  last  penny,  after  deducting  my 
expenses!" 

Thus  spoke  Caleb ;  and  he  stood  up  in  the 
exalted  attitude  in  which  he  had  taken  his 
oath,  with  his  eyes  and  hands  raised  to 
heaven,  and  waited. 

Vettius  and  Rufus  thought  it  rather  risky, 
but  Lucius  said : 

"Caleb's  advice  is  excellent.    It  is  the 


THE  TOUR  311 

only  thing  to  do.  If  I  delay,  Tiberius'  min- 
ions will  discover  where  I  am  and  take  the 
last  remnant  of  my  belongings  from  me. 
Caleb,  I  will  do  as  you  say.  I  will  sign  the 
document  certifying  that  the  ship  is  your 
property,  together  with  the  slaves,  the  row- 
ers, the  furniture,  the  jewels,  the  very 
valuable  plate.  .  .  ." 

But  Caleb  did  not  move.  He  continued  to 
stand  in  the  solemn,  rapt  attitude  of  his  oath, 
with  his  eyes  and  hands  raised  to  heaven. 
And  he  now  said,  slowly : 

"I  thank  you,  my  lord,  for  your  confi- 
dence. It  will  certainly  not  be  abused.  If 
I  do  not  render  you  an  equitable  account  in 
whatever  place  of  exile  you  may  be,  may  the 
awful  jaws  of  Typhon,  whose  tongue  is  a 
serpent  and  whose  teeth  are  blazing  flames, 
swallow  me  and  devour  me !" 

And  Caleb  himself  trembled  at  his  terrific 
oath  and  then  fell  on  his  knees  before  Lu- 
cius— a  thing  which  he,  a  free  Saba&an,  had 
never  yet  done — and  kissed  the  foot  of  the 
suddenly  impoverished  noble  lord ! 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

NEAE  the  pillars  of  Sesostris,  near  the 
little  diversorium,  there  lay  moored, 
beside  the  quadrireme,  a  merchant 
trireme,  which  was  sailing  past  Ophir  to  the 
Persian  Gulf  and  which  was  to  go  up  the 
Euphrates  to  Babylon.  And  Lucius  asked 
to  speak  to  the  magister  and  said : 

"Magister,  can  I  have  room  in  your  ship 
for  myself,  my  father,  my  young  wife  and 
my  little  black  slave  ?  I  am  a  sculptor ;  and 
I  am  on  my  way  to  Babylon." 

And  he  pointed  to  Thrasyllus,  Cora  and 
Tarrar,  who  approached,  each  carrying  a 
small  bundle  of  luggage. 

1 1  Certainly, ' '  said  the  magister.  1 1  My  one 
cabin  is  still  unoccupied.  It  is  small  and 
perhaps  inconvenient;  but  people  like  you, 
who  are  sculptors,  are  not  accustomed  to  lux- 
ury, I  dare  say,  and  will  be  prepared  to  make 
shift." 

312 


THE  TOUR  313 

Lucius  answered  that,  if  the  cabin  was 
suitable  for  his  wife  and  his  father,  he  and 
the  little  slave  would  do  the  best  they  could 
on  the  half-deck  or  in  the  hold ;  and  he  beck- 
oned to  his  family  to  come  on  board  and  paid 
the  passage-money. 

For  Caleb  had  advanced  him  a  goodly  sum 
on  the  sale  of  the  quadrireme,  for  the  imme- 
diate needs  of  the  voyage ;  and  Caleb  himself 
had  set  out,  with  a  great  following,  for  his 
dear  Saba,  first,  because  he  wanted  to  forget 
his  love-sickness  in  the  pleasures  of  Arabia 
Felix  and  then  to  make  a  start  by  selling 
many  of  Lucius'  slaves  and  jewels,  his  orna- 
ments and  furniture  at  Mariaba,  the  capital, 
because  it  was  safer  to  get  this  done  as 
quickly  as  possible.  The  sale  of  the  great 
ship  herself  would  occasion  difficulty  enough. 

Uncle  Catullus  remained  on  board  of  her. 
He  did  not  wish  to  be  a  burden  on  his  poor 
nephew  Lucius ;  he  had  contrived  to  hoard  a 
modest  capital  with  one  gold  piece  after  an- 
other that  had  accidently  slipped  through 
Lucius'  fingers ;  and  he  was  to  sail  to  Alexan- 


314  THE  TOUR 

dria  in  the  ship,  after  she  had  been  sold,  and 
there,  in  the  city  of  the  finest  cooking,  to 
spend  his  old  age  in  a  small  apartment  in 
the  Hermes  House.  And  so  he  had  taken  a 
tearful  leave  of  Lucius,  Thrasyllus  and  Cora 
and  had  said  to  her : 

"Dear  Cora,  just  as  you  were  going  to  call 
me  uncle,  we  part  and  perhaps  for  ever.  Ah, 
Egypt  is  the  death  of  me!  Egypt  will  ir- 
revocably be  the  death  of  me!  For  I  can 
never  go  back  to  Rome,  poor  old  exile  that  I 
am,  because  Tiberius — may  he  die  a  thou- 
sand deaths ! — would  rob  me  of  my  few  pence 
even  as  he  has  robbed  Lucius  of  his  trea- 
sures. .  .  ." 

The  merchant  trireme  glided  away  over  a 
smooth  sea;  and  the  travellers  on  the  deck 
waved  farewell  to  Uncle  Catullus,  who  stood 
on  the  prow  and  waved  back.  It  was  a 
leave-taking  for  good.  And  the  magister 
asked,  inquisitively : 

"Is  that  lord,  who  stands  waving  his  hand 
to  you,  the  owner  of  that  splendid  vessel "? ' ' 


THE  TOUR  315 

"Yes,  magister,"  Lucius  lied,  "and  he's 
my  uncle.  And  one  day  I  shall  be  his  heir. " 

' '  Then  you  will  do  well  to  hold  him  in  hon- 
our, master,"  said  the  magister,  growing 
very  respectful.  "Whew!  That's  a  pro- 
spect not  to  be  sneezed  at!  What  a  noble 
ship!  What  a  magnificent  quadrireme! 
But  tell  me,  master,"  he  continued,  more  and 
more  inquisitively,  "in  that  case  why  don't 
you  stay  with  your  uncle?" 

"Because  it's  not  a  good  thing,  magister, 
for  poor  relations  to  be  always  hanging 
round  the  rich.  For  then  you  only  annoy 
them  and  they  end  by  cutting  you  off  with  a 
shilling.  And  that  is  why,  magister,"  said 
Lucius,  pressing  Cora,  by  his  side  to  him, 
"after  seeing  and  admiring  Egypt  at  my  rich 
uncle's  expense,  I  am  now  paying  a  visit  to 
Babylon  with  my  father,  my  wife  and  my 
little  slave.  From  there  we  shall  go  through 
Assyria  and  Asia  Minor  to  the  island  of  Cos, 
where  my  wife  was  born  and  where  I  want 
to  settle  down  as  a  sculptor." 

The  magister  thought  this  very  natural; 


316  THE  TOUR 

and,  as  the  wind  was  now  blowing  a  stiff 
breeze,  with  the  first  cold,  autumnal  gusts, 
Lucius,  happy,  gay  and  healthy,  led  Cora 
into  her  cabin,  while  Tarrar  squatted  out- 
side, like  a  faithful,  clever  little  monkey,  and 
Thrasyllus,  within,  carefully  rolled  up  the 
maps,  books  and  itineraries  which  he  had 
consulted  during  their  tour. 


POSTSCRIPT 

Caleb  of  Mariaba  (Saba),  joint  proprietor 
of  the  Great  Diversorium,  the  Hermes 
House,  at  Alexandria,  near  the  Canopian 
Gate,  to  the  ever  noble  Lord  Publius  Lu- 
cius Sabinus,  sculptor,  at  Cos. 

"Written  at  Alexandria,  at  the  second 
hour  of  the  fourteenth  day  of  the  month 
of  Pacothi,  in  the  ninth  year  of  the 
benevolent  reign  of  our  gracious  Em- 
peror Tiberius  Augustus. 

"MY  EVER  NOBLE  LORD,  GREETING! 

"It  is  a  pleasure  to  me,  Caleb  of  Mariaba, 
to  inform  you  by  this  letter,  entrusted  to 
Alexandros  of  Alexandria,  magister  of  the 
merchant  trireme  'Berenice/  that  by  chance 
and  great  good  fortune  I  have  succeeded  in 
disposing  of  the  valuable  quadrireme,  the 
pleasure-ship  Aphrodite,  once  your  pro- 
perty, noble  lord,  and  in  the  presence  of 
witnesses,  free  men,  transferred  to  me  at 

317 


318  THE  TOUR 

Cape  Dire,  by  the  Pillars  of  Sesostris  *  .  .  . 
selling  her  at  Arsinoe,  previous  to  the  pass- 
age through  the  Nechao  Canal  (which  would 
probably  have  been  liable  to  legal  object- 
ions), at  the  very  profitable  price  (as,  con- 
sidering all  the  circumstances,  it  appears  to 
me,  your  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 
friend,  guide  and  companion  in  the  chase)  of 
(after  deducting  my  commission  and  all  my 
expenses)  200,000  (say,  two  hundred  thou- 
sand) sesterces,  a  sum  reckoned  according 
to  the  Roman  value,  item  that  noble  qua- 
drireme  Aphrodite  and  three  hundred  row- 
ers (slaves),  item  all  the  necessary  and 
most  complete  equipment,  item  costly  furni- 
ture, carpets,  plate  and  treasures  of  art, 
which  would  probably  have  produced  large 
sums  had  it  been  possible  to  sell  them  sepa- 
rately, without  danger  of  seizure  in  the  name 
of  our  gracious  Emperor  Tiberius  Augustus, 
but  the  separate  sale  of  which  would,  in  the 
circumstances  aforesaid,  have  entailed  innu- 
merable drawbacks ; 

i  Here  follow  the  hour,  day  and  month. 


THE  TOUR  319 

"Whereas  I,  Caleb  of  Mariaba,  acting  and 
appearing  on  my  own  behalf,  as  actual 
owner  of  the  noble  quadrireme  Aphrodite, 
have  been  able  to  sell  this  magnificent  plea- 
sure-ship to  the  noble  Lord  Baabab,  a 
Persian  satrap,  residing  at  Susa ; 

"  Wishing,  my  noble  Lord  Lucius,  com- 
panion of  the  chase  and  friend,  to  act  to  your 
ever  noble  advantage,  I  propose,  in  order  to 
reduce  to  a  minimum  all  risks  of  shipwreck 
and  piracy  and  other  fatal  accidents  (such  as 
a  jealous  fate  keeps  ever  hanging  over  the 
heads  of  us  poor  mortals),  to  remit  to  you  at 
frequent  intervals,  by  the  intermediary  of'  a 
magister  of  merchant- vessels,  one  trusted  by 
all  and  personally  known  to  myself  and  sail- 
ing to  and  fro  between  Alexandria  and  the 
Archipelago,  a  small  sum  in  gold  coin  or  bar, 
with  account  and  settlement,  so  that  you,  my 
noble  lord,  may  at  the  earliest  moment  pos- 
sess your  whole  capital  in  your  own  hands. 

"And  I  also  send  you,  in  memory  of  your 
most  beautiful  ship,  a  few  pieces  of  furni- 
ture and  valuables  (withheld  and  smuggled 


320  THE  TOUR 

away),  including  two  bronze  bedsteads,  a  ci- 
tron-wood table,  a  Babylonian  carpet,  some 
Ethiopian  ostrich-feather  coverings,  the  sil- 
ver statue  of  Aphrodite,  patroness  of  your 
ship,  and  a  few  minor  trifles  of  taste  and  con- 
venience. 

1  'I  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  my 
noble  lord,  dear  friend  and  stout  companion 
of  the  chase,  to  tell  you  that  at  Mariaba,  du- 
ring a  temporary  stay  in  my  beloved  coun- 
try, Sabaea,  I  bought  myself  a  most  beautiful 
slave,  a  Greek  like  Cora  and  excelling  in 
many  gifts,  which  slave,  in  order  to  bind  her 
with  greater  certainty  to  my  affection,  I  set 
free  at  Mariaba,  leaving  her,  however,  as  my 
wife  in  my  house  in  that  city,  where  I  hope 
one  day,  after  achieving  my  fortune,  to  en- 
joy a  life  of  bliss,  fearing  lest  my  brother 
Ghizla  might  allow  his  rights  on  her  to  pre- 
vail (according  to  the  manners  of  our  coun- 
try) and  hoping  to  visit  her  each  time  that 
my  conduct  of  noble  lords  shall  bring  me  to 
the  pillars  of  Sesostris,  from  which  my  be- 
loved country  is  easily  reached. 


THE  TOUR  321 

"Wishing  you,  my  noble  lord  and  friend 
and  companion  of  the  chase,  the  blessing  of 
the  gods  upon  your  house,  upon  your  new 
work  and  your  household,  upon  your  wife 
and  your  servants,  the  wise  Thrasyllus  and 
the  faithful  Tarrar,  together  with  an  always 
possible  change  of  fortune,  I  bow  low  before 
you,  in  all  humility  and  friendship,  with  one 
hand  on  my  heart  and  one  hand  on  my  lips. 
"Your  ever  most  obedient,  humble  servant 
and  guide  and  friend  and  companion  of  the 
chase, 

"CALEB  of  Mariaba  (Saba),  joint  pro- 
prietor of  the  Great  Diversorium,  the 
Hermes  House,  at  Alexandria,  near  the 
Canopian  Gate." 


THE  EKD 


i   I*    A  v 


DATE  DUE 


PRINTED  IN  USA. 


7/ 

h 


3  1970  00623  9401 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      000318762    2 


